Paradise
by Sage Clover
Summary: It started as any other hunt, but before Sam or Dean could prevent it, Dean was paralysed on the floor barely holding for life, and Sam was incapacitated, dread allowing him to say things he had never thought he would. Gabriel should know by now that interfering always gets him in trouble. It's his fault really, but how could he simply watch when Sam Winchester was in such turmoil.
1. Cataclysm

**Summary:**

It started as any other hunt, but before Sam or Dean could prevent it, Dean was paralysed on the floor barely holding for life, and Sam was incapacitated, dread allowing him to say things he had never thought he would.

Gabriel should know by now that interfering always gets him in trouble. It's his fault really, but how could he simply watch when Sam Winchester was in such turmoil? Finding father was easier than he expected, but just as useless. But he can't just stand by and do nothing, so it's up to Sam, Dean, Castiel and perhaps himself stop the apocalypse.

 **AN:**

Just another prompt fill for Talkingtomyselfagain. Beta read by ThallenCambricaltran, Hyrulehearts1123, and Nathyfaith. All remaining mistakes are mine. I'm sageclover61 on Tumblr if you want to come find me! This first chapter has been posted to AO3 has the oneshot, Cataclysm, First in the Paradise Series.

This takes place after Point of No Return, except Michael never showed. Adam simply disappeared.

* * *

 **Part 1: Dean**

Sam couldn't move, couldn't see, and it was ominously quiet behind him. Dean couldn't be dead, not here, not now, not after absolutely everything that was trying to break them apart. It was supposed to be Sam and Dean against the rest of the world! When had that changed? Why?

"I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered, shuddered. There was so much he'd always wanted to say, needed to say, but Dean couldn't abide with chick flick moments. Never, not for anything, not even when the world was ending and he just needed to say something.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I'm so sorry. It wasn't ever supposed to be like this, but it's just been one thing after another and I just wish it would stop. You can't die, not now, not yet. I thought I lost you for good when I went to Stanford. It was never about you, not you, but Dad and his ultimatum… I had to get out, Dean, I had to go. But it wasn't a good memory, not like Heaven made it out to be. Heaven was all _wrong_ , Dean, none of those were happy memories. They were turning points that made me who I am but they weren't happy. They were tainted by the things I'd always dared to want for myself, knew I couldn't have, didn't deserve. You were so mad, Dean, like it was my fault." Dean could hear Sam take a shaky inhale of breath.

"Your heaven was so beautiful, Dean, even Mom was in it, but I wasn't. Not in the parts that I could see. But that didn't bother you, did it Dean? Because you got to see Mom. You got to see Mom, and Gabriel's right, _It's my fault she's dead,_ because if I'd never been born, she'd still be alive." A deep sob tore through his brother's throat.

"I could barely do Christmas last year and you never even asked why I was dragging my feet. Do you even know how many Tuesdays I had? I stopped counting at a hundred, and then there was six months I spent tracking him down because it was supposed to be Wednesday but the Trickster cheated! He was trying to show me why I couldn't let my need for revenge control my life. It got Dad killed, it got you killed. Hell, it almost ended my life too. But why should I have expected anything from a pagan? Not to be trusted, not to be believed, _'They're monsters, Sam, all of them. If they're not human, you kill it, got that Sam?'"_ Dean could hear a faint sound, dripping, and desperately hoped it wasn't his brothers blood hitting the ground, or his own.

"Am I human, Dean? Was I human then? You left a voicemail on my cell phone, you called me a vampire. You said that if you weren't related to me, didn't know me, that you'd hunt and kill me for the monster that I was." Dean eyes burned with tears he could not shed, much as he imagined his brothers burned with those that did fall.

"Maybe that's the reaction you should have had, I don't know. It was always Sam and Dean against the world, but since last year, it really hasn't been. I really do regret the demon blood, but it was an addiction, Dean, and I couldn't control it, and I tried, but I can't control it. You were dead and I was drowning in these emotions I didn't know what to do with, summoning demon after demon as I tried to get you back, but it couldn't be done and it couldn't be done. I was so close to following you Dean, so close to breaking the Catholic's greatest Sin, but I couldn't do it because I was too weak, and there she was, promising that if I followed her lead, I could get the revenge I so craved. She tricked me, Dean, she did, showing me all the good I could do with my mind! It was amazing, Dean, I could exorcise demons and save the hosts before the demons could injure them, which is always the concern when we just use an exorcism. But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. So she drew me into the blood, and it tasted so good, I had to have more! The more I had the stronger I felt- I could have exorcised Alistair, I killed Lilith! Lilith would die and I could have you back! But by then the first seal broke and the angels brought you back. I was so excited Dean, because you were home safe where nothing could touch you, and it was supposed to be perfect because Angels really existed." Another sob wracked through his brothers body, and Dean could feel the faint brush of Sam's jacket against his own back.

"And then Angels weren't as they seemed. Not guardians of humanity like I always believed, but soldiers of their own cause. To what purpose, Dean? Where does it end? I didn't even get to see the beauty of heaven due to their manipulations. You got to see Mom and I got to see the ash and dust of unfulfilled regrets and you threw away the amulet that meant everything to _me._ _I gave it to you because I realized finally that Dad was never going to be what we needed,_ but you threw it away like it was nothing, like it was my fault Heaven would never accept me for for the monster that I had become, _and I'm so sorry that it's come to this._ " Sam sniffled, borderline hysterical. He still couldn't move, couldn't see, and there was only silence except for his words, rambled into the empty.

"Now I'm dreaming about Lucifer. I'm not going to say yes, I promise, but I can't make it stop. It's like I'm going insane, but it's all real and I just want you to stop and listen to what I have to say, but you're so caught up on the blood and the revenge that you won't even stop reminding me that this is all my fault. If I could have just killed Jake I wouldn't have died, you wouldn't have gone to Hell and then there wouldn't be an apocalypse going on, but no, I couldn't do it. So many of our friends are dead and how many more are going to die yet because of me?!"

Dean couldn't move, just listened as Sam rambled on and on about demon blood, and heaven, and issues they had not talked about at all. If he got out of this alive, he would rectify that gross negligence, and he would never say 'No Click Flicks, Sammy,' ever again. Well, maybe a few times. At least not seriously. But what was this about being calling Sammy a vampire? The only voicemail he'd left for Sam before he'd killed Lilith was when Zachy had let him call…. And Sam hadn't answered. Was it possible Sam had never heard his apology? The angels had spent all year trying to drive a wedge between them. It was clear now that they were being driven towards saying yes, but they hadn't realized the extent of the manipulations the prior year, and Heaven had been just another machination.

"Not a monster, Sammy," he wanted to say, needed to say, but his body failed to respond. Wouldn't respond. Not even the croaking of a dying hunter.

Sam had paused, as though listening for the response he'd expected Dean to make, but only silence answered. He choked back a sob. "Please don't be dead, Dean, you can't be!" His words died away, leaving Sam's broken sobs as the only sound in the room.

Dean's heart _broke_ as he listened to Sam's wails. Was this how Eurydice had felt, trailing behind Orpheus, unable to comfort him as he was left to wonder if Hades had kept his end of the bargain? He was alive, but he couldn't tell Sam that because he was paralyzed and Sam couldn't see him.

* * *

 **Part 2: The Trickster**

An unknown presence sat in the rafters, in deep consideration. A long forgotten lollipop rested between his fingers. He had been twirling it earlier, but now the sweet held no appeal. In the other hand he held a crushed hex bag. This wasn't _his_ machination, he'd just been genuinely curious about what the Winchesters would get up to after leaving him in the circle of holy fire, and he'd wanted to know why they had released him. Watching them, though, he'd never in his wildest dreams considered that Sam Winchester felt this way about himself. His facial expressions during the holy fire incident had been telling, sure, but not like this.

What had his siblings done? Lucifer had been the one so adamant against the existence of humans, but this didn't indicate Heaven was protecting humanity. Why had Sam Winchester been condemned just for the ill-circumstances of his birth? Even cut off from heaven, he _knew_ that Sam believed. He'd prayed, not for every little thing like some people, and not for himself, but for his brother and sometimes for his own forgiveness.

Was there anything he could do, though? He was Fourth Born, not even as powerful as Raphael, let alone Lucifer and Michael. He couldn't see the future, but he knew if he engaged the brother he'd been closest to, he would die. Lucifer had already been insane before the cage, but how had isolation for aeons helped? Solitary confinement for a human was bad enough, but for an angel who only existed with communication to the choir? Cutting himself off had almost killed him, and he'd gone to Earth!

He didn't want to return to Heaven, but would doing so prevent the destruction of humanity? He couldn't see how it would, he'd been believed dead since the end of the battle. Dad had left before the battle started, and he'd been gone by the end. He'd mocked Castiel for looking, but what if that had been the wrong approach? He didn't know where God was, but he did know He wasn't dead.

In all likeliness, He was living among his favorite creations. He'd made it clear he liked them better, after all. Castiel had had no luck, but of course He would hide himself well. Otherwise the seraphim would have found him long ago. But he was Fourth Born. He had a little bit more power than they did.

But first, Sam Winchester was still wailing and Dean Winchester would kill whatever had caused Sam to feel like some part of him had died. They may not have understood exactly what it meant to be soulmates, _but Gabriel now understood why killing Dean over and over again to make a point would have never worked. If only he had known then exactly what he knew now._

Gabriel dropped the hex bag on the ground and flew off, allowing time outside to resume. The witch would return and someone would gank her. He'd learned everything he had desired to know that they could tell him. Now, he had a prophet to integrate without invoking Raphael's wrath. Raphael had been mistaken. Only one entity was capable of resurrecting an angel and it wasn't Lucifer. But Raphael should have known that, so what game had the Third Born been playing that day?

The Empty was not an entity to negotiate with, though. So what had Dad given in exchange for Castiel? Why Castiel? Dad had upheld his policy of noninterference since giving Lucifer the mark. Why break that now, for a soldier who wasn't even a seraph? What was so important?

"You always were the most curious of your siblings."

Gabriel blinked, not really hearing what had been said. He finally noticed that he was standing in the prophet's living room and hadn't even realized it yet. The place was a mess with no sign of any celestial interference or intent. But that was a deceit.

The prophet stood in front of him, a neutral expression on his face as he studied the archangel. "Are you the Scandinavian investor?"

Gabriel shrugged. "The word of God is meant to be read, is it not?" Why had this seemed like a good idea? Look at Cassandra and Apollo. No one believed her and Troy fell. He believed the prophet, but here he was, trying to change the future. Or find Dad, but that seemed unlikely.

"The Winchesters didn't seem to agree with that perspective," Chuck replied.

"There were some explicit scenes, and they are only human. It's not exactly surprising they were unnerved to see their entire lives in print."

"So why are you here?" Chuck asked. "No offense intended, but in my experience, angels and archangels don't usually just 'swing by' for a chat, if you know what I mean."

Gabriel would have liked to have been able to take offense, but the prophet wasn't wrong. He could tell just from the way certain people talked about angels that Heaven was in a sad state of affairs. _How the Hell had Michael spent the last few aeons? At least one garrison was clearly acting irresponsibly. But at whose behest?_

The archangel opened his mouth to ask his question- Some form of determining whether or not the prophet knew where Dad was, but at the last second, he changed his mind. The prophet had made a very specific statement when he'd arrived, and while it may have worked on any of the younger angels, Gabriel actually knew how prophets functioned. They knew all about the present, and things that had happened during their lifetime. But to know the secrets of an archangel's personality? "Dad."

The house was a mess, but it only looked that way to an outward viewer. It was a facade, and now that Gabriel was really looking, he could see that. There were papers everywhere, but none of them were important in the long string of things. Everything of importance would have been saved to the computer, and who knew how the computer files were organized. No one would have looked for anything celestial here.

Chuck raised an eyebrow, but didn't outright deny it. "What gave it away?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Your quip about my personality. And your guess about my Scandinavian status. And my purpose for being here, I suppose."

"What makes you think I can or will help you? You're an adult. Your siblings are adults."

"Some advice would be nice," Gabriel muttered. "What happened to Heaven?"

"What makes you think I know?" He chuckled when Gabriel opened his mouth to object. "Nevermind. Those in Heaven have chosen a path without emotion. They have no love for humanity and have opted for non-interference."

"And the purpose of the apocalypse?"

"They believe it will lead to paradise. I suppose they also believe that it will bring about my return. If they destroy mankind, they will not get what they are looking for." His tone was that of warning, but not current anger.

Gabriel gave Him a wry smile. If His other children had only chosen humanity over their desire to bring about the End, they might have gotten what they had wanted all along. But when forced to choose, He had of course chosen humanity over his eldest children. Even if Gabriel wanted to argue, who was he to condemn God? "Can you fix it?"

Chuck shook His head. "No. This is on them. They have made their choice, and I have made mine."

"They honestly think this is what you want, though. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Do you _know_ how many people do abominable things in what they think is My name? What makes you think this is any different?"

The archangel sighed. "They're supposed to have free will, aren't they? And you never told them, so then you left when they couldn't figure it out for themselves. Doesn't that make you the hypocrite?"

"You're treading on thin ice, Gabriel."

Gabriel would have liked nothing more than to say everything he really wanted to say, but it wouldn't do to test the deity that had put his closest brother in isolation for aeons. "Do you know how this ends?" He thought he could see it, but he couldn't see the future, wasn't sure how it would really end.

"How do you think it ends?" Chuck turned his head, and Gabriel couldn't help but follow it. Sitting on the desk next to the computer, there was a paperback book. With his angelic sight, Gabriel could see that the title read, "Swan Song," and he _knew._

"Michael, Lucifer, and Sam in the cage," he all but snarled, and he knew, just _knew,_ that he couldn't let it happen that way. _They had free will for a reason, damnit!_ "No. No. There's no such thing as fate, right? Not if free-will is real."

"It hasn't happened yet," Chuck agreed. "But it has happened in every single alternate universe, in one way or another. I will not help you, nor will I hinder you."

 _What terrible moral support._ How was he supposed to convince the _entire_ host, including Lucifer and Michael, to jump off the game board? _He still was not willing to kill his siblings, but he would also not see a human in the cage._

With that, Gabriel left. If he stayed he would only be tempted to rant and rage at a father who had long forgotten his firstborn. This was the closest thing he would get to useful help, and he had learned very little.

The last book was already written. How much time did that give him? He was already familiar with how the door could be closed, but that was how it was foretold. Sam would say yes, overpower Lucifer, and Michael would follow them into the cage. But that couldn't be the only answer. Sam would be lost.

That meant he had to do something else. Anything else.

If he could just convince his siblings not to destroy humanity... Starting with Lucifer.

* * *

 **Part 3: Castiel**

By the time Castiel flew in and smote the witch, both Sam and Dean were blubbering messes, though Dean was still silent and paralyzed.

Sam climbed to his feet, unsteady as a foal. He was still crying, but he wiped his eyes, still expecting no sympathy from the celestial being. "Are you going to save Dean?" he whispered.

Castiel tilted his head, "I do not understand…"

Killing the witch had broken her spell, freeing Dean of both the paralysis and the silence. He bolted upright, shouting, "I'm not dead, Sammy!" as he tackled his behemoth of a baby brother who was more than capable of bearing his weight.

But not, perhaps, when shocked into finding out the person he loved most was not in fact dead. Sam was knocked to the floor as Dean decided that mimicking an octopus was a good idea.

"I love you, Sam," Dean whispered as Sam was falling over. "And I am so, so sorry that I made you doubt that."

Sam spilled more tears, this time in relief rather than frustration and grief. Dean didn't move from his position perched on top of Sam, merely holding his brother in an attempt to convey how he really felt where words had always failed. There would be words later, but not while Castiel was still wondering what had happened inside the empty warehouse that was no longer shrouded in darkness.

"Was one of my siblings here?" Castiel asked. There was a faint scent of sugar and electricity that he couldn't place and a hex bag on the floor, clearly warped as though someone had damaged it in anger. Who else had been here?

"I didn't see any dicks with wings," Dean answered turned to look at him and elbowing Sam in the ribs with the same movement. "Sammy?"

"No," Sam grunted.

"We need to leave this place." Cas walked towards the Winchester and put a hand on each of them. Seconds later, they were back in their hotel room, Sam sitting on one bed and Dean on the other.

"If you hurt my car-" Dean started.

"Your car is in the parking lot, not a scratch," Cas answered, well used to that line. "What happened in the warehouse to cause you both extreme mental duress?"

"Nothing!" Dean's answer was instinctual, as not a word Sam had said had been for anyone but him and it was not the business of nosy angels, but the hurt expression Sam sent him anyway made him reconsider that response. "Nothing that concerns you, Cas. Sam thought I had died and said some things I really needed to hear. It was, is, important for us." He thought about what Sam had said, and then about the voicemail Sam had mentioned. "Cas, when Zachariah locked me in that weird room right before Sam killed Lilith last year, I called Sam after banishing him. Was that call actually made?"

The angel tilted his head. "You were inside Zachariah's pocket dimension. You would not have been able to make any call he did not want you to make."

Sam frowned in confusion and disbelief. "You didn't call me a vampire?" he guessed.

"No, I didn't call you a vampire. I apologized for more or less repeating Dad's words when I told you not to come back. Why would you think I called you a vampire?"

Sam pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and after putting it on speakerphone, dialed a number. "You have one saved voicemail. Press 1 to hit play." Sam pressed the button.

Dean's voice was heard over the speaker of the phone, and both Winchesters winced at how it really did sound like Dean. "Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam - a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back."

They both stared at the phone in shock, even as the robotic voiced continued, "Press 1 to save voicemail."

Sam closed the phone without pressing any buttons. He could see that it wasn't actually what Dean believed, and quite possibly that he had never said it to begin with. There was no reason to use it to torture himself further.

"I would never have said those things," Dean said. "Never. I don't care what Dad said, there's no way I would ever, could ever, kill you. Why would the angels think such a horrid thing?"

There was no answer, until surprisingly enough, Cas spoke. "I think I might know. And we may need to reconsider our course of action staving off the apocalypse."

* * *

 **Part 4: Sam**

A few hours later, after Cas and Dean had told Sam about their conversation with Raphael, Dean had told them about his conversation with Michael, and Sam told them about _all_ of his conversations with Lucifer, the two humans and the angel stood in front of a large white piece of paper they had pinned to the wall.

"What is the purpose of this again?" Dean asked.

"We need to understand why the archangels want the apocalypse, or at least, why Gabriel is the only one with anything to say against it, even if he won't pick a side," Sam reminded him gently. "The best way to do that is to start with the hierarchy. The lower tiers of angels had no idea what was going on last year, which suggests that the apocalypse was a machination of someone or a group of higher-ups. Plus, wouldn't it be nice if we could get an archangel on our side?"

Dean shrugged. "We'd have Gabriel if he wasn't such a coward." He rolled his eyes when Sam gave him bitch face #9. "Okay, then. I assume Michael goes at the top, since he's the general?"

Castiel wrote the name Michael on the right hand side of the paper, at the top. "General is not an exact translation, but it is the most accurate English word for Michael's position." General was the word Castiel wrote to the left of Michael.

"Michael told me that he would kill Lucifer because it was the right and just thing to do," Dean reiterated. "But he also claimed that he didn't want to kill Lucifer any more than I would want to kill you, Sam. And yet, on more than one occasion, I have chosen not to kill you where others might have hunted you." Despite knowing it was true, hearing it spoke aloud still brought a pained expression to Sam's face. "I know," Dean added. "I know you were not entirely at fault for any of it. Especially not Yellow Eyes' part in the demon blood. _I'm just saying._ Look at Gordon. _"_

"As it is in Heaven, so must it be on Earth," Sam said, quoting Gabriel's lines when he'd been in their holy fire trap. "Can Michael be convinced to not kill Lucifer and is not killing Lucifer actually the solution?"

"Very little has been heard from Michael for the last few hundred years. Before he brought us back to the present time, we had all believed Michael to be deep in revelation, as he had not been seen nor heard from."

"Michael didn't show himself when I tried to say yes, nor when Adam said yes. And yet he had a one on one chat with me when he brought us back to the present. Is that at all suspicious?"

"Let's come back to Michael," Sam suggested. "Lucifer next?" He didn't wait for Dean or Cas to agree or disagree, instead continuing on with, "He claimed that he idolized his older brother once. I assume that's Michael?" Castiel nodded, even as he wrote Lucifer on the paper underneath Michael's name. "He said Michael called him a freak and a monster. He also once promised to never lie to me, but I have to say that he definitely phrased his speech in a way that I could relate to. It reminds me of Stanford."

"I am not familiar with the architecture of the Cage, but I do not believe it would have been a pleasant way to spend as many aeons as Lucifer has. The Cage was in limbo, time passes much faster there than even in Hell."

"If four months was forty years, how many centuries must he have spent in the Cage?"

"Hundreds of thousands of centuries," Castiel answered. "At the minimum."

Both of the Winchesters winced. "For what?" Sam asked. "Corrupting humanity?"

"Was it for having free will? For giving it to humans?" Dean inquired, arching an eyebrow towards his brother and the angel.

Castiel tilted his head. "I don't know. The war was winding down and then Lucifer simply vanished. I believe Father also left about that time."

"Who actually put him into the cage? Michael or God?" Dean wondered, as he watched Castiel pace from side to side.

"I do not know. I do not think anyone knows, except Michael and Father." The angel replied, stopping and staring outside the window.

"Wait," Sam interjected. "Whatever happened, Michael didn't kill Lucifer. Sometimes words spoken can't be taken at ed. "I know angels speak every language ever, but how much is lost in translation? Lucifer was in the Cage for ages upon ages, do you also automatically understand/ convey yourselves using colloquialisms? Enochian doesn't have a lot of words in the entirety of the language, right? How do we know they picked the most accurate translations?"

"I'm not sure I understand your question, Sam," Castiel affirmed, turning to regard the hunter.

"You breed with the mouth of a goat," Dean said. "You said it was funnier in Enochian. Is that because of the Enochian colloquialisms, or because the exact translation was wrong?"

"Is it idiom? Cultural meaning of a phrase can be different from the literal meaning of the words. Like- 'who let the cat out of the bag?' We know as a culture that it's referring to a secret being told, but that meaning cannot be derived by looking up each individual word in the dictionary," Sam explained.

"You're asking if I picked the best translation when I explained the false exorcism, and you're asking if my siblings might have made similar mistakes in the wording of their speeches."

"Not Gabriel, necessarily, but Michael and Lucifer for sure," Sam replied.

"They would not know human idiom, that is true. Lucifer's hatred of humanity would make him even less inclined to use it. But that would also use the assumption that he still feels that way."

"Lucifer is likely angry and bitter," Sam said. "Isolation from everyone he's ever known or cared about would likely cause those feelings to get stronger. That doesn't mean he doesn't have positive emotions, it'll just be harder to appeal to them. Unless…. What about forgiveness? I know it's cheesy, but humans often portray your father as the God of forgiveness. Any chance of redemption for Lucifer?"

Castiel sighed. "I do not say this lightly, but just as angels are not so benevolent as humans would depict them, neither is our Father."

"But He's also gone, right? Can Michael forgive Lucifer and move forward without Lucifer destroying humanity? Perhaps Lucifer has only been exposed to the worst of humanity."

"Was his concern that humans would destroy the planet?" Sam asked. "Humans came last, right? So who would have created the Earth and its creations?"

"The archangels did most of the creating when it came to Earth and not only the life forms, but also the aesthetic of the planet itself."

"Platypus?" Sam asked randomly.

"Australia was a group effort between all the archangels."

"Maybe we should come back to Lucifer," Dean suggested. "His words are not the only set we should analyze for meaning and intent."

Castiel wrote the name Raphael on the paper. To the left, in the column he'd written Commander next to Michael, he wrote, Healer.

"He sure didn't seem inclined to heal when he smote you," Dean grumbled.

"From what you said of your conversation with Raphael, he sounds disgruntled. Abandoned younger sibling. Exhausted and ready for the world to end. Although that sounds like an issue of mental state. Nihilistic, perhaps? I'm concerned that he might try to end the world to get his paradise. Possibly suicidal? I don't know. Someone with nothing left to lose," Sam commented as he twirled the pen on his fingers.

"I would hazard against drawing such a conclusion," Castiel suggested.

"Wait, though. Gabriel shared a similar view concerning being ready for the world to end. What did he say, 'Let's light this candle'?" Dean tried to remember exactly what the archangel had said. "Except he was hiding facades behind facades."

"That still doesn't explain why Raphael believed Lucifer to have brought Cas back," Sam considered. "Unless…. Did a single word Raphael say condemn Lucifer?"

"What?" Dean asked. "His tone-"

"Dean!" Sam's volume increased as Dean's words reminded him of things they had not originally considered. "Angels don't inflect! Culturally, they do not follow human inflection of the voice, let alone specifically American inflections. Ignoring how he sounded, did he specifically say anything condemning Lucifer?"

"He warned me against blasphemy. His words were that God is dead, and then talked about the 20th and 21st centuries as though they could be used to prove it. And then he suggested that Lucifer must have raised me from the dead. That he would be looking for rebellious angels to join his side." Castiel frowned as he considered the ramifications of Sam's conclusion. "You can only look at what was said. The reverse is true for angels. We know every language humans have ever used, but we do not learn their nonverbal communication techniques."

"I know that's unlikely, but can we explore this hypothetical? What does Raphael gain from convincing us that Raphael raised Cas?" Sam posed the question with genuine curiosity, and hoped that Dean wouldn't shoot him down.

Instead of shooting Sam's idea down, because that was not the way to handle this situation, Dean decided to go for Sam's hypothetical with uncharacteristic nonchalance. "That would suggest he's trying to push Cas to Lucifer's side. It would paint him in a sympathetic light under the condition that Raphael knows we want Cas alive."

"And archangels don't have that kind of power?" Sam asked for clarification.

"They do not."

"And Raphael would know that, wouldn't he? So either he's so far into this mindset of believing your Father to be dead that he can't possibly believe something contrary to that belief, or his intention was something entirely different," Sam said. "And yet, does any of that even fall under his purview as Healer?"

"Raphael has been cold and distant since the first war. It has been a very long time since anyone in heaven exhibited the warmth you attribute to my kind," Cas answered.

Sam considered the paper on the wall. "What is the Enochian word that translates as Paradise?"

Castiel spoke the word. He used his quiet human voice so that he would not accidentally harm the humans. "What are you thinking?"

"What else could that word mean? Would the word that translates as the end, or end times, be a similar form to that word? What about the word for bliss?" Sam considered. "Cataclysm, upheaval, ruin." His eyes widened. "Death-?"

"Paradise isn't death, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed.

Castiel's head titled as he stared at Sam. "The Enochian word for all of those is the same, but you missed one. Change. It also means forest, but I'm not going to explain that one."

Sam raised an eyebrow at the mention that the Enochian word for death was the same as the word for forest, but didn't question it. "Raphael said they were looking for paradise. That they were tired, and ready for it to be over. And Gabriel used that line too, _'I just want it to be over!'_ Michael and Lucifer both made it sound like the conflict is inevitable, but what if it's not?"

"How would we stop it?" Castiel asked.

"What if all roads only lead to Rome only because Rome is the only word that can represent a destination? Wiping out humanity would not be paradise because it would be ruin and destruction. What if what they really need is change? To have free will to stray from the chosen path? Gabriel did it, Lucifer did it, what would it take to get Michael and Raphael to change course and for Lucifer to compromise back to the middle somewhere?"

The angel stared at the younger hunter. "You're going to need a miracle, Sam."

"No," Dean replied. "We don't need a miracle. We need to convince Gabriel to help us. He might have some idea how to convince his brothers that this doesn't have to end with blood spilt. Let's pack up and go."

"Where?" Sam asked.

"Who knows where." Dean shrugged as he started packing.

They ended up at the Elysian Fields Hotel in Muncie Indiana due to a detour. It was fate.


	2. Coincidence

**Chapter summary:** Gabriel was not the only one who decided that diverging from the chosen path was a good idea.

Before one brother can kill the other brother, someone decides to intervene because this is unacceptable behavior.

It was not God.

 **AN:** This is a blanket warning for this chapter, but there's some implications to Chuck being an abusive parent. That's shown through a Flashback revealing how exactly Lucifer ended up in the cage.

* * *

"No one makes us do anything." Gabriel was pleading. The Winchesters were gone, having taken Kali and the disk he'd hastily shoved into Sam's hands with them. Lucifer had taught him these words so long ago. Angels had free will too, the majority just didn't understand. "You don't have to do this," he whispered. "Dad doesn't even care about anything anymore, so why does this prize fight even matter? We're supposed to be brothers, Luci, fight and bicker and hate, but at the end of the day, you were supposed to have MY back!"

Why did his brothers want him dead? He'd wanted so badly to remain neutral, but he was certain that if it were Michael here, the situation would have been the same. How had Raphael handled it? The most introverted of his archangelic siblings had also been the most empathetic. It made his healing skills all the greater, but did not make the warrior. How had Raphael managed?

By faking his death, he'd had no contact with Heaven since Lucifer had been kicked out of Heaven. He would not fight his brethren then, but it did not seem that he had a choice now.

The illusion of Gabriel that Lucifer didn't know about yet was creeping ever closer to Lucifer, but Gabriel couldn't attack yet. He would not kill his brother in cold blood if there was any way he could be redeemed.

"You don't understand! Michael was supposed to have my back! But he chose humanity over me and stood by while I was thrown in a Cage like a rabid beast!" Lucifer roared, eyes blazing red with fury masking aeons of hurt and fear and disappointment. "It was dark and cold and I was nothing! I was alone! And I was deaf to everyone! Everything! Save my own cries in that damned place!"

Gabriel's heart broke for his brother. He'd been connected to the angels from the moment of his birth until he'd faked his death and he couldn't imagine Lucifer suffering that. Solitude would have not improved matters, either. His own debauchery had at the beginning been to help with the effects of losing the bond to the Host.

He said nothing. What was he supposed to say? Lucifer had his sympathy, but not if he was going to destroy the planet in retaliation. It was a dick move and he liked the planet.

In the silence, Lucifer realized there was something right behind him and turned, acting with a blast of his own icy grace. He knew it was an illusion, he'd taught Gabriel how to make copies of himself. He could have pivoted, striking Gabriel with the copy, but he chose not to. He was angry, yes, but he did not want his baby brother dead.

The copy of Gabriel disappeared in a flash of light and the very real archangel blade clattered against the floor.

Lucifer pouted. "You were trying to kill me. Gabby, that hurts!" He stared at the sword, considering picking it up.

Before Lucifer could bend over, there was an even brighter flash of light a few feet away. "Knock it off you two!" As the light faded, Raphael was clearly visible, using the same vessel he'd used when Dean an Castiel had trapped him in holy fire. "You're acting like children and I won't take it anymore!"

Raphael had had plenty of opportunity to play intermediary between his siblings in their childhood. Despite being the second youngest, they had all to some extent been willing to listen to him.

If he had been more neutral before the first war, could he have prevented it entirely?

"Raph?" Gabriel choked out. Was his brother here to drag him back to face Michael's judgement? He didn't want to go back, but seeing Raphael here hurt because he missed his siblings more than anything. So close, and yet so far away.

Raphael kept his expression neutral. He wanted to so badly to greet gabriel warmly. He'd spent aeons believing (disbelieving) that his little platypus was dead, but here he was, alive! And it appeared to have been a close call, if Lucifer had been about to engage him in real combat.

"Why are you here?" Lucifer snarked. "Are you so far up Michael's as…?"

"Dont. Finish. That. Sentence," Raphael ground out, interrupted Lucifer's distasteful snark. He was doing this for Michael and Lucifer, even if they didn't know what he was really doing. Or why. "You two are going to forge a tentative truce, and then we are working out your problems with Michael, and then you are both coming home."

"Why?" Gabriel asked. "It'll just inevitably fall apart! It always does! I vamoosed for a reason and I can't take it anymore! Dad is gone! He's gone, and he's not coming back! But you and Michael have sticks so far up your asses you're still trying to do what you think he wants and it doesn't fucking matter! He chose humanity over us and you know what?! I think I've finally figured out why!" A some point he'd switched to Enochian, and both Lucifer and Raphael stared at their brother as he ranted.

Raphael blinked first. "Father is dead."

"No, no he's not." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "He's masquerading as a prophet. But it doesn't matter, he doesn't care. Might as well be dead. Have you even considered why he decided to leave in the first place?"

"He loved humans more than us!" Lucifer exclaimed. "They're flawed abominations and he said we needed to love them!"

"Yes, but why?"

Raphael was certain that Gabriel had a point and that it was incredibly important. Having actually believed God to be dead, though, he had no idea what Gabriel had learned while living on Earth. "Why?" he asked, more humoring the brother he hadn't seen in aeons than letting Gabriel goad them.

"Because of free fucking will! Humans who love God unconditionally do so because they fucking want to! Why do we love Dad? Or not,"Gabriel was raising an eyebrow at Lucifer.

It all came back to obedience. Lucifer had been cast out for defiance and disobedience, which had led to Michael and Raphael leading the host towards valuing obedience over anything else. The implications of course being: did they, the celestial children of God, even have free will?

Raphael suspected the answer was yes, otherwise he would not have been able to manipulate the cage into opening. He hadn't done it for the reasons everyone thought, though. He'd done it for other specific reasons involving the relationship Michael and Lucifer had once shared. "My understanding of mortals is that they love their own parents unconditionally, and that the height of good parenting is unconditional love for their children."

He shrugged then, "It's also true that not all parents are able to be as good as they could be. They either have jobs that keep them far too busy, or they are too ill to spend much free time with their children, but from what I have seen, the true mark of a wonderful parent is not in what they are capable of giving their children, or what kind of money they can make and give them, but in how much they care about their children, and the effort that they put into trying to give their children the best life possible."

Gabriel blinked, and then he blinked again. It had taken him a long time to figure out how human parenting worked. When had Raphael taken the time to figure it out? "That's all true, sure, but what does that say about our relationship with Dad?"

Raphael didn't have an answer, didn't want to have an answer. Incorrectly believing God had been dead for so long was not an improvement, because it merely added to the already forming evidence that suggested maybe Dad hadn't been very good at being a parent after all. Humans didn't even abandon their adult children, or at least, people who could be considered good at parenting didn't.

Lucifer, on the other hand, opened his mouth. What exactly his intention was though, he wasn't sure. All this talk of human parenting had dragged up things better left forgotten. One moment he was standing, watching his brothers as they argued, and the next he was somewhere else.

Far away from the hotel, far before it had been built, certainly far before the area known as 'America' had been discovered, or even populated by humans, he had tried to say much the same things, but it had ended in disaster, plain and simple.

"Father, please, I'm begging you, grant me mercy upon this day, I need your help to repair my grace and the damage done as a result of the mark you had me to carry."

"Be silent! You are the cause of the damage to our home, the descent amongst your younger siblings, and you are also the sole cause for the rampant corruption upon the earth as a result of sharing the mark with Cain!"

"No, Father, please! I will do anything! Let me remain, I will do whatever it takes, even lose my rank! Seal away my grace, leave me as naught but a seraph, or even a cupid! I will accept even that, if you will allow me to remain among my brothers, and amid your presence."

"And why should I do even that?! Have you not even listened to a thing that I have said? You are the reason everything is coming undone, despite even my own efforts!"

"I am trying to listen, but you are not listening to me! I have seen the first man Adam with his children, and how he regards them, and how he would try to listen and understand his sons, and how they see things compared to him, and he would understand how they were their own individuals, and how they were more than capable of having their own thoughts and emotions, and he would try to find a solution that they all could be satisfied with! I am begging you Father, please, try to understand me, and aid me in my struggles!"

"Enough! I grow weary of listening to this drivel. You clearly have much to learn, and if this is how you must learn, then so be it."

Chuck snapped and then he was alone in the dark and he couldn't see anything or hear anything or feel anything and he was calling out to the only person who had ever cared about him but no one came and no matter how long he called or how loud he screamed no one ever heard and no one ever came and he was trapped and alone and no one cared and-

Raphael and Gabriel could only watch with desperation as Lucifer's grace flared with volatile ice, forcing them to back away from it as it went so far as to lower the temperature of the room. Gabriel knew that Lucifer was beyond conscious thought and he was frightened. What had his brother gone through that this was his reaction to a discussion on human parenting?

Raphael was a healer and watching as his older brother screamed for their eldest brother made his grace hurt. What in Father's name had happened in those last moments before the first war had ended? Lucifer had gone willingly to talk to father and then it had all been over. Michael, please come.

There was a flash of light that filled the room. "What in Father's name is going on down here? I take a ten minute nap and suddenly everyone thinks the world is ending!"

Raphael snorted. "More like a few centuries…"

Michael glared at Raphael, but his look contained a hint of curiosity. He wanted to know exactly what Raphael was talking about, but Lucifer was wailing and that was more important.

Gabriel edged himself behind Raphael. He still wasn't entirely sure what had brought the Third Born to this place, but he thought it seemed least likely that if hostilities broke out, Raphael would be the one to attack him. Jury was still out on what Michael would do to him, but that wasn't why he was here.

Michael, whose vessel was the young John Winchester, moved towards the sobbing Lucifer. He may have had a shopping list of things to work out with his brother, but that wasn't going to stop him from offering comfort to an emotionally distressed Lucifer. "Luci, I'm here," he whispered softly. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Lucifer's grace parted like butter for a hot knife, allowing Michael to approach Lucifer with ease. The younger hiccupped, sobbing not decreasing. As soon as Michael was close, Lucifer threw his arms around his middle. "Don't leave me here!" he wailed. "It's so cold!"

Michael's grace was fire. It had always been the warmest of the archangels' graces, but even still he recognized that Lucifer's grace should not have been so frozen. "Where are you?" he asked quietly. Clearly Lucifer was not mentally present, but he couldn't help if he didn't understand.

"Too dark to see," Lucifer whimpered. "Father left me."

Raphael glanced behind him to Gabriel. The youngest archangel had flinched towards him. The Healer wanted nothing more than to pull the messenger towards himself and hold him close, but Gabriel did not look ready for that. Why did his brother fear the worst?

At some point Lucifer came back to the present and on realizing Michael was really there, tried to pull away.

When Raphael noticed that Gabriel also looked ready to flee, he snapped his fingers. "Wait."

Lucifer flinched back into Michael, the snapping of Raphael's fingers reminding him of another person snapping him into a Cage. Michael held Lucifer, and they watched as a large circular table filled the expanse of the ballroom. There were four simple chairs at each of the cordinal points.

"I request that no one leaves before peace has been negotiated," Raphael stated. "Can you all adhere to that?" He took a seat at the table, and was followed by Gabriel, who took a seat at Raphael's left.

Michael moved toward the seat directly across from Gabriel. Lucifer watched, a whine escaping his throat. He hesitated a few more seconds and then moved to take the remaining chair.

"How do you propose to negotiate peace?" Michael asked, directing his question to Raphael.

"Compromise, probably." Raphael remained straight faced and looked towards Gabriel. "What would it take for you to come back to Heaven?"

Gabriel swallowed. He didn't want to walk into his own execution. He just wanted his family whole and well. After running and hiding for so long, he was beyond ready to return. "I won't pick between Lucifer and Michael, for side taking. The humans are to be left alone, and I will protect them from any of you, or any of our kin. The true vessels are to be left alone. They have no further place in Heaven's machinations. None."

Raphael nodded. "Lucifer, what would it take for you to drop the apocalypse?"

Lucifer blinked, shaking and swallowing behind the tears threatening to come back. He wasn't sobbing, but he was definitely close. "I don't want to destroy Earth or our kin. No more destruction, no more death."

Raphael refrained from showing any outward surprise. Why had there been a battle in the first place? None of them had wanted it, he was sure.

"Michael, do you agree to Gabriel's terms?" 'If you mention Father or obedience, so help me I will make you sit through improper grooming techniques with the new healers.'

"No more death among our kin," Michael agreed easily. "I will not push Lucifer away or into combat." What had he missed? Raphael never did anything without a reason, so there was a purpose behind his warning. What had caused Lucifer such fright as to call him here? "There will be no apocalypse."

Raphael glanced from Michael to Lucifer and then to Gabriel. "Are we all in agreement? That there will be no apocalypse?"

Michael nodded with ease, while Lucifer shifted a little before giving in and nodding. Raphael's gaze almost passed Gabriel over.

"Wait," Gabriel said. "What are you getting out of this?"

"Me?" Raphael tilted his head.

Raphael didn't understand why Gabriel was asking this question. The messenger had already said he wanted their family whole, so why didn't his brother think he could want that too? That was all he had ever wanted. But had his actions during the first war been those of someone who wanted only peace? "I want peace, Gabriel. I get to see our family whole and well again."

"No!" Gabriel shouted and the table shook. It didn't move, but an edge formed between Raphael and Gabriel. The messenger's eyes widened because the action had not been consciously performed.

Raphael said nothing, but he did tilt his head. He could tell that Gabriel was emotionally charged, even if he was also keeping his vessel's expressions neutral. He wanted Gabriel to speak up, to talk about how he felt and why. But Gabriel just stared, so he pushed. "Why not?"

The table shifted, an angle pushing out by Lucifer, and then again, this one jabbing Michael in the knee. The eldest raised an eyebrow in annoyance, but chose not to say anything.

"That can't be what you want," Gabriel whispered. "It's what I want."

Raphael wanted to hug Gabriel. The statement did not suggest that the last few aeons had been kind to Gabriel. Why?

"So I don't get to work towards your end goal?" Raphael didn't wait for his brother to argue or carry on. He'd deal with Gabe's self-deprecation later. "Okay. Then I'll pick a different one. I want to see heaven and the entire host restored to the way it was in our youth, except it'll be better this time."

Michael and Lucifer stared at Raphael in confusion and the table shifted again. An angle formed on the other side of Lucifer and the same angle from before poked Michael in the knee again. Lucifer stared at the angles around him in dismay.

"Better how?" Gabriel mumbled.

"There was no free will. No choice."

"Then that's how we an fix it," Michael suggested. "We can teach the ranks about free will. They'll need a nudge in the right direction, but if we all work together, we should be able to do it."

"Do we even have free will?" Lucifer asked.

"I think we do," Raphael said. "We are all actively seeking peace, and that was our own choice, was it not?"

"Father didn't want peace." Lucifer pulled into himself, but he didn't cry.

"He's not here," Gabriel insisted. "So it's not his choice!"

"He doesn't get a say," Raphael agreed. "And he wouldn't get a say even if he was here."

"Why this talk about Father?" Michael elected to ask Raphael silently, because he was certain this related to whatever part of the conversation he had missed.

"He didn't love us unconditionally, he abandoned us, and he did something to Lucifer we'll never forgive him for and we don't know what it was yet. I'll fill you in later."

Michael had been the obedient son in the beginning, but by coming here to comfort Lucifer, he'd drawn a new line in the sand. He should have found a way to help Lucifer before the first war and he hadn't. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

The angle in the table by Michael poked him in the knee again, and Lucifer still looked so sad, so he decide to Hell with it and flew to Lucifer's side. Lucifer's chair shifted to a slightly larger size so they could share it. At least Lucifer wouldn't make a mockery of him.

Lucifer hesitated, but realizing Michael really was voluntarily in his space, he pushed closer, seeking a closeness he'd been longing for, and nestled into Michael's grace. He purred.

Gabriel glared at Michael. Michael and Lucifer deserved this and he didn't hold that against them, but it still made him feel lonely again. He wanted his family whole and well, and he wanted a place within it. And he wanted them all happy.

Raphael turned his attention to Gabriel. "Are you in agreement?" The negotiations were just a formality. He was certain they all wanted peace, even if Gabriel had reached the mental state of needing to push away anything freely given.

"I don't know," Gabriel whimpered. Another angle appeared behind Michael and Lucifer, enclosing them within the table.

"I don't know," the messenger repeated. "I want peace and I want to go home and I don't believe you."

"Why don't you believe we can change?" Raphael didn't know what else to say. If Gabriel would not believe them, they had no way to force him to believe. And trying to force him would defeat the purpose of having choices.

"You said we should step off the playing field," Lucifer mumbled from his place beside Michael. "Are we not stepping off the board? Is that not what we are doing?"

Gabriel curled even further into himself. "I don't know."

Raphael moved to stand, but Lucifer moved faster, flying from the table to Gabriel. He crouched next to Gabriel's chair. "No playing board, little brother. We all want peace."

Lucifer held his arms open as though about to hug Gabriel and the messenger moved first, all but falling out of his chair and into Lucifer's embrace. He lost his battle with his emotions and broke into messy sobs. Lucifer's vessel was taller than Gabriel's and he held his little brother as Gabriel sobbed. Lucifer had not been the only one affected by the first war.

"I accept the peace," Gabriel whined through his tears.

Raphael and Michael both heard Gabriel's final agreement with the "treaty" for peace. The Healer moved first, joining Lucifer and Gabriel so he could hug them both. "Can we go home?" he asked.

Michael also approached them, but chose not to join the hug. "Are you all ready to head home?" Raphael's question was reasonable, but both Lucifer and Gabriel had been away for so long that it would be unwise to take them home without their consent.

Lucifer nodded his head in agreement while Gabriel mumbled, "Please."

Raphael glanced at Michael. With a single thought, the room was cleared. The two archangels spread their wings and took flight, pulling their brothers along with them.

Raphael and Michael had chosen not to use the original wing that had belonged to all the archangels, but it had been kept clean as though nothing had changed. They flew there, and landed on the giant bed in the family room.

"Sleep," Michael suggested to Lucifer and Gabriel. "Raphael and I will keep you both safe."


	3. What now?

**Chapter Summary** : Just because everything seems like it should be all fine and dandy does not mean that it is.

 **What now?**

Gabriel did not sleep. Lucifer fell asleep beside him without trying, nestled against Michael where he belonged. On his other side Raphael had also fallen asleep, assured by Michael that as the eldest he could keep them all safe. But Michael had been unable to stay awake, convinced the other three were asleep and would stay put.

But Gabriel was sneakier than that, and convinced this was a dream. There was no way he would ever be welcomed into heaven so warmly. Not after everything that had happened and everything he'd done. So no, he wasn't going to lie here and allow whatever plot Michael and Raphael had created come to fruition.

With Lucifer on one side and Raphael on the other, climbing out of bed without disturbing either was difficult. But that didn't stop Gabriel. He managed to wiggle his way out from between his siblings and stand on the ground. Now what?

"Gavri'el?" Raphael stirred, disturbed by the absence of someone next to him. Wait, Gabriel. The Healer sat up, careful not to disturb Michael or Lucifer. Both needed sleep more than anything else, and while he wanted to make certain that neither was injured, this sleep was too important. He saw Gabriel standing a few feet away, wings spread in a protective defense.

"Oh, Gavri'el," Raphael whispered, climbing down and approaching his trembling brother. "I'm not going to hurt you. Neither are Michael or Lucifer."

Gabriel didn't back away, though he considered it. "This can't be real," he replied. "It can't be."

Raphael wrapped his brother in a hug. What could he do? This was so real, but if Gabriel did something stupid because he wouldn't believe, he would never forgive himself. Wait, maybe… "Gavri'el, will you come with me? I want to show you something."

Gabriel was hesitant, and terrified, but followed as Raphael led him out of the room and through Heaven. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Raphael led Gabriel to the heard of Heaven, to The Garden once known as Paradise.

"Why are we here?" Gabriel asked as they entered. It was the heart of Heaven, but most angels rarely entered. Joshua had been the only gardener for a long time.

"I want to convince you that this is real. I thought this unchanging place would help." Humans who came to the garden saw it differently, in whatever way they could relate to the best. Angels, however, only saw it as it really was. An unchanging heart filled with celestial trees. It never spread and the trees never died. Joshua tended the garden, but he didn't change it.

Gabriel studied the trees as he and Raphael walked around in silence. Even though he'd tried, he had never been able to recall the Garden in his mind perfectly, and in no pocket 'verse had he been able to recreate it exactly. The only thing he hadn't been able to do. An illusion of their Father had also been impossible, but he'd never tried that. Why? Their Father was the reason everything had gone to horseshit and he knew it.

"Hello, Raphael, Gabriel," Joshua greeted. "I'm glad you've returned to Heaven."

The archangels acknowledged his greeting and moved on. The gardener appreciated his solitude and they wouldn't intrude on it.

Raphael sat among the roots of a tree that resembled a willow. It was the only one of its kind in the garden.

Gabriel stopped. Maybe there was a chance that this was no illusion, no lie, no trick.

"Gavri'el, won't you come here?" Raphael's voice was still quiet, endlessly patient in a way that no one else had ever been, and likely never would be.

Gabriel quivered. He'd been trying so hard to keep himself under control, but he'd been fighting for too long. He stepped towards his brother and then knelt next to him, not quite in Raphael's lap.

Raphael rubbed Gabriel's back, which caused the youngest archangel to lose it, breaking into messy sobs again as he allowed himself to express emotions he had hidden away for centuries.

* * *

Michael winced as he awoke. His wing _ached_. He should have known supporting so much of his brothers' weight when they had flown back to heaven would be a bad idea. But it had been necessary, and he had known that he would do whatever necessary to see Heylel and Gavri'el both returned to heaven. Maybe it would feel better if he let it rest awhile. He didn't need to fly anywhere right now.

It was easy to lean towards Lucifer. He might have slept for some indeterminate amount of time, _he'd have to ask Rafa'el about that later,_ but that didn't mean his feelings had changed or that he hadn't missed Lucifer like he'd miss a limb.

As he almost drifted back to sleep, Michael realized that he and Lucifer were alone, and that Raphael and Gabriel had disappeared to parts unknown. He would know if they left heaven, but he hoped they didn't. Michael didn't think he would be capable of flying back, if he tried to leave Heaven now.

"Cold, Mika," Lucifer mumbled, only stirring enough to press further into Michael's side.

The eldest archangel pressed a sad smile against the back of Lucifer's neck. Lucifer was the Lightbringer and his grace had once been able to hold a candle to Michael's own supernova. But not now. Now his grace was as cold as the vast expanses of barren space.

Lucifer was lying atop Michael's uninjured wing, and he was loathe to move the slumbering archangel, so Michael shifted with the intent of folding his injured wing over them both.

The astronomical pain was instantaneous. For the moment it took him to remember more important things, all he could focus on was how it felt like his wing was smoldering. He hadn't moved it very far and he knew he couldn't move it any further.

The door creaked open and Michael could only hold his breath, not sure who it was and knowing that if he tried to move for a better look he'd end up on the floor from the agony.

"Mikha'el?" Raphael stepped back into the room followed closely by Gabriel. He looked towards Michael when the eldest didn't answer. His eyes widened as he saw that Michael's wing was extended in an unusual way and that there was a look of discomfort on his face. He was taller than Gabriel and knew that his brother couldn't see the unnatural bend in the wing the way he could, and he didn't want Gabriel to have to see that.

He looked over his shoulder at the youngest archangel. "Gavri'el? Can you go find Samandriel?"

Gabriel took a step closer to Raphael, leaning against him as he sought comfort and acceptance from his brother. "Why?" he asked, unsure why he wasn't welcome here. Had it all been a lie after all? Not only that, but had he also been replaced by some other angel?

Raphael could almost _feel_ Gabriel's self-hatred and it made him angry, because Gabriel should have never needed to feel that way. Never, ever. "No," he whispered. "We want you here, but Michael's wing is injured so I'm going to fix it, and I don't want you to have to watch because it's going to hurt."

"Lucifer's here," Gabriel whined, and he knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he shouldn't have because it was an inappropriate accusation. _Lucifer was supposed to be Michael's mate,_ and he was supposed to be there. _He didn't belong, and that he was being petty just proved it._ He pulled away from Raphael, tears in his eyes. "I'll find Samandriel," he mumbled, leaving because that's what he did best, _fleeing._

Raphael wanted to follow Gabriel, tell him that he was wrong about not belonging, _because there were four archangels, not three, not two,_ ** _four_ **_, and heaven had all but fallen apart because then there'd only been one,_ but he couldn't, because he could hear Michael shifting in agitation and the groan of pain that followed. So he turned around and looked to the bed.

Lucifer was still pressed against Michael's side, so Michael used a sliver of grace to push him into deeper sleep. It wouldn't do for Heylel to wake up if Rafa'el decided to fix his wings. No reason to worry anyone unnecessarily. _Especially not Haylel. Haylel had his own problems to worry about._

The Healer approached Michael's side of the bed quietly, his eyes analyzing the damage to the wing. _He'd known it had been injured once a long time ago, but this looked much worse._ "Mikha'el, what did you do to that beautiful wing?"

"I don't know." Michael had not finished straightening out the wing when he'd adjusted it earlier, so he tried to raise it without jostling the injured section. The pain was less overwhelming this time, but it was still present.

Feathers fluttered towards the floor, disturbed by the motion of the wing. Michael couldn't see, didn't look, but he could hear Raphael's wince. Hopefully it wasn't _that_ bad. If giving up flying was what it took to get his siblings back, it was worth it, _but that didn't mean he wanted to have to give anything up._

"I need you to calm down," Raphael whispered. "Mikha'el, can you do that for me, please?" Without giving Michael the opportunity to respond, he ran grace infused fingers down Michael's spine, along the edge of his right wing. Michael was clearly in pain and resetting the bone that was definitely broken would not be a comfortable experience, so the Healer dulled all the nerves he could. It would almost be better to send him into a deep slumber, but he'd done that once and it hadn't healed the wing properly. Besides that, if Lucifer woke up while Michael was out, he might not react well. So imitating a local anesthetic would have to do. Fortunately, his grace could do that better than what the humans used for the same effect.

Michael let out a soft sigh of relief as most of the feeling in his wing disappeared. There was still pain and he could still feel that he had a wing, but Raphael had managed to relieve enough of it that he could think straight. "Did that bone break again?" he asked, morbidly curious about what could have caused that level of pain.

"Yes," Raphael answered. He had never seen a reason to mince words. There was no reason not to tell Michael exactly what he knew. There would be no sugarcoating, just honest truth. _If he'd been more forthcoming the first time, would he have created less of a mess?_

"Can you fix it?" Michael's tone conveyed no fear, only acceptance. He wasn't doubting Raphael's ability to heal but he also wasn't fighting what others would have feared to be inevitable. Either Raphael could fix his wing, or he couldn't, and it _didn't matter._

Raphael held in a sigh. He'd have accused Michael of being melodramatic, except Michael wasn't distraught. The calm acceptance he was emanating was genuinely disturbing. _Raphael could have lopped the wing off and Michael would have held no objection._ Except he would have put up a protest concerning Lucifer waking up and worrying about it. _Which he would have. Raphael was worrying about it and it was just a scenario he didn't want to touch._

Michael's concerning mental state aside, Raphael knew that he couldn't just leave the wing to mend on its own . He'd learned a lot in the aeons Michael had spent slumbering, and it would take everything he'd learned to fix Michael's wing. But he would. " _I'm the archangel of healing, Mikha'el. If anyone can fix your wing, it'll be me."_ He tried to keep his true voice from wavering. The false sense of bravado was for Michael's sake, because the one thing Raphael knew for absolute certain was that Michael _could not_ start believing his injuries were incurable.

Michael didn't answer, but Raphael wasn't really expecting one. He pushed a little bit of grace into Michael's spine. It wasn't mimicking the effect of anesthesia by knocking Michael unconscious, but it would mellow him out a little. A quieter Michael also made it easier for Raphael to figure out exactly what was going on with the bones in his wing and how to fix it.

The humerus bone in Michael's wing had been cleaved into two Michael had flown at all once it had rebroken was just shy of a miracle in and of itself. The first time the eldest had broken it, Raphael had not known how to fix such a thing. No one had ever damaged their wings so badly, and God had always healed wings himself. He had not allowed Raphael to learn how to fix any of the injuries beyond some minor fledgling scuffles. A broken bone in the wing had been beyond his capabilities, hence putting Michael to sleep and hoping it would fix itself. _He should have known better._

But Raphael had learned a lot in those aeons He'd been gone. No one had cleaved any bones in half, but there had been a few minor fractures, some pulled muscles, a few damaged ligaments. _How did they even sprain their wings?_ But they did. And Raphael had recorded every wing injury, written passages on what worked best for each one, drawn pages and pages of anatomy, injuries and recoveries.

The healer picked up one of Michael's fallen feathers from the floor. The feathers were a physical manifestation of grace even more so than their wings, but they also shared characteristics with mortal bird feathers and molted every once in awhile, but unlike birds, less often when they weren't taken care of properly. That happened more often than it should have, and now that Raphael was thinking about it, _he'd have to fix that._

Raphael rotated the feather in his hands, watching as the vane fell away from the shaft. On the third rotation, the shaft no longer looked like a shaft, but longer and thinner like a piece of wire, though straight and unbending as a rod.

He repeated this process until he had a handful of identical rods. They were about the size and shape of uncooked spaghetti noodles. With a seventh feather, he rotated it until it lengthened and expanded into a flexible string as wide as duct tape. It looked like a piece of fiery ribbon, the same color as the rest of the pieces.

Raphael put the grace rods on the edge of the bed and focused on the wing. The bone was clearly out of alignment, so he used his hands to straighten it. Once the pieces were almost together, he held it with one hand and laid the ribbon over it like a piece of tape.

Celestial beings were made of grace, and their own grace could not be used to hurt them. As their blades were extensions of their grace, one's blade could not be used against one's self. Lucifer stabbing Gabriel with Gabriel's blade would not have caused his death. But their youngest brother was a master of illusion and manipulation, and he would have faked his death so well. So Raphael had seen the time to intervene, and doing so had worked well enough. They were all in heaven and they would all be better for it.

Because Raphael was using Michael's grace to heal Michael's wing, the ribbon dissolved through his feathers and skin, wrapping itself tightly around the bone in the way Raphael desired. Next he took each of the rods and inserted them the same way, this time into the bone itself as pins to the hold bone together while it healed. Raphael was not able to heal this kind of injury directly, but as a Healer he had ways to manipulate one's grace that no one else could use.

Raphael finished inserting the rods into Michael's humerus bone and stepped back to watch. The healing would by no means be instantaneous, or even quick, but it would happen. Michael would not lose flight, which he should have known, but hadn't.

"Mikha'el?" Raphael whispered, tapping his brother on the shoulder. "I set your wing. You'll be able to fly, but not before I'm certain you wouldn't break that bone a third time."

Michael nodded. "Thanks." He glanced towards Lucifer who was still sleeping. This was home. This was how it was supposed to be.

Raphael sat on the edge of the bed closest to Michael's head. "Would you tell me how your wing broke in such a unique way? I've seen many strange injuries, but it should not be possible to break the humerus."

Michael winced. He remembered, but it was one of the most painful memories he held. "I'd found out what Father did to Heylel, so I confronted Him." He winced again, image forming in his mind of the day he'd found out it had been Lucifer's intention to bond with him, and that he had begged for forgiveness, only to be cast out. "He said he'd give a demonstration of his power over us, an example punishment of where disobedience and pride would lead us." He swallowed, fighting the emotions this drudged up. "He asked me where Gabriel had gone, but I wouldn't tell him. I lied to him, Rafa, told Him I didn't know. And He was so angry. I've never seen Him so angry, and then he hit me." Michael flinched. All he could remember was how much it had hurt. It had felt like being hit with a star, hot and explosive. He'd heard the snap of bone with every fiber of his grace, pain resonating through every bit of his core.

Raphael wasn't sure whether he wanted to hug Michael to pieces or curl into a sobbing mess. He had once suspected their Father had caused injury to Michael, but he'd never had enough proof to entertain it greatly.

* * *

Gabriel couldn't stop the tears of hurt and frustration that fell as he flew through Heaven trying to find some angel called Samandriel. _He'd spent aeons wanting to come home, thinking he'd never be able to, and then he couldn't even_ behave _when he was finally there. He didn't deserve his family and he couldn't even keep from feeling pointless jealousy over someone he hadn't even met yet. How stupid was that? He wasn't supposed to be some petty human, he was supposed to be an Archangel! But he'd never acted like the awesome creature of divine right that he was supposed to be, just a pitiful child notorious for running when the going got tough. Why would his siblings want him when he couldn't even act like a mature adult?_ With his luck, Samandriel was going to be some super powerful and strong seraph who was capable of the most ingenious plans and who Raphael liked best because he was also super well read.

"Are you okay?"

Gabriel stopped, blinking as he found himself having to look down at the fledgling he'd been about to run over in his haste. The fledgling didn't look frightened, only genuinely concerned with a hint of curiosity, and Gabriel was even more curious about the fact that there _was_ a fledgling. This child didn't look to be more than a few years old, but he _knew_ God had only created one final batch of fledglings, which had included Castiel and Balthazar. They'd still been fledglings when Gabriel had left, but there had been no more after that. _He knew that._ But the child has also asked him a question, and he was going to answer it. "I've been better," he mumbled, wiping his face because he didn't want this _incredibly observant fledgling_ to ask why he was crying.

The fledgling stepped towards him and wrapped his arms around Gabriel's waist in a hug. "Its okay. A good cuddle makes everything better, and I've been told I'm a really good cuddler."

Gabriel closed his eyes. The fledgling's grace was warm, not burning, and it was a pleasant feeling to be hugged by a fledgling. "What's your name?" he asked, realizing he had forgotten his manners.

"I'm Samandriel," he said. "Rafa says snuggles make the burdens feel lighter."

Gabriel knelt, returning the fledgling's hug. Rafa'el hadn't replaced him with a fledgling. He wanted to snuggle his siblings, but Michael's wing was injured and he would have been in the way. Lucifer had still been sleeping, _and waking up to find Michael so injured would have sent him into a panic attack._ And Gabriel would have been in the way. He had helped Raphael a little bit with healing once, but that had been a long time ago, and not for anything like a broken wing. So really, finding the fledgling was a good thing.

"Who're you?" the fledgling asked curiously.

"I'm Gabriel," the archangel answered. "Rafa asked me to come find you, he's fixing Michael's wing."

The fledgling lifted his head to grin at Gabriel. "That's so fantastic! Mika's wing was really broken and he was taking a long nap, but Rafa wouldn't let me wake him up because he was healing, but it didn't look right to me. Do you think he's going to really really heal it this time? I hope so, Mika slept for such a long time, it was so boring!"

The archangel smiled. How could he not? The fledgling was so enthusiastic and happy. It was contagious, almost. Except none of that explained why there was a fledgling. He'd just ask Raphael later, he didn't want to upset the fledgling.

"Come on, kid," Gabriel said, meeting the small one's eyes as he spoke. "Let's get back to Mica, we don't want to keep him waiting too long." The smile he'd plastered to his face felt fake even to him. But he was trying not to upset the _fledgling_ dammit. It wasn't the little tyke's fault that everything had gotten so messed up, and, and confused, and-...

"Gabriel?" A small voice asked timidly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm just, adjusting still I guess." He reached out to the fledgling, offering a hand to hold on the way back. He'd always found that children could understand a surprising amount, and appreciated being treated like adults. Like equals. Because they were. Smaller, usually messy and confused equals, but equals none the less.

Samandriel nodded wisely back at him and accepted his extended hand, bringing a small smile to Gabriels lips. This kid was so damned cute.

"Come on, Gabriel. We don't want to keep Mica waiting."

A little while later, after a long walk back through heaven with a distractible fledgling in tow. Gabriel managed to get the fledgling back to Raphael. The healer had finished fixing the eldest archangel's wing, and Lucifer had woken up so they were talking quietly on the bed. "I was hoping you'd come back soon," Raphael said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, no, it's okay." Gabriel moved to join them on the bed and they moved so there was space for Gabriel in the middle. The fledgling followed him.

Raphael snuggled into Gabriel's back and Lucifer into his front. Samandriel curled around Gabriel's toes and Michael settled on top of Lucifer where his wings were out of the way and the least likely to be bumped.

"We're home," Lucifer whispered into Gabriel's ear. "We're home, and we're so, so loved."


	4. Idyll

Big thanks to Hyrule and Thallen, as always! Thallen wrote the glorious scene with Sam and the Casa Erotica disk, and all mistakes are mine.

Warning for vague (mostly cannonic) sexual content.

* * *

As much as the archangels might have wanted to lie around doing nothing, Raphael at the very least, had responsibilities to the host. He had been in the process of training new healers while also retraining the Rit Zien, because their methods of mercy killing had been required during the first war, but Raphael prayed it would never be used again. The humans had learned something the angels did not yet comprehend, but one could not cease living when "the going gets tough".

The humans had not invented the Hippocratic Oath. It had come from Raphael first, who had believed that as a healer, and the first one, that it was his responsibility to act in the best interest of his patients, and that it was not only his responsibility, but also the responsibility of all healers. The interpretation to Do No Harm had not always been wrapped in the same connotations, because there had been a time when Raphael had truly believed that there were patients who suffered too greatly for death to not be in their best interest. While that would probably still hold true for incurable degenerative injuries or diseases, that wasn't true for anything else anymore. _And mental pain_ could _be healed, it just took time and different methods._

Along with the improvement in healing, one of the things Raphael had also been working on was grooming because it was pretty clear that the soldiers had been neglecting their wings and it was showing. _It was also unacceptable, but that was another matter._

* * *

"You want us to what?!" Lucifer exclaimed.

Raphael sighed. "The newest healers need a demonstration on proper wing grooming techniques before I let them anywhere near a pair of wings after what happened last time, and I can't reschedule it again, so I thought it would be nice if you and Michael perform the demonstration."

"It can't be that bad of idea," Michael said, trying to convince Lucifer to agree. "And it's not as though our wings are pristine." He tilted his head in the direction of Lucifer's wings to punctuate his point. Lucifer's wings had once been a pristine and vibrant hue that shifted between coral and wine depending on the light, but his time in the Cage had diminished that vibrance, leaving them a pale, washed-out rose color that did not look at all as healthy on Lucifer as it might have on someone else. That was punctuated by the fact that it was clear they had not been groomed in some time, with the vanes of the feathers clearly running all the wrong directions. His feathers should have been smooth, not a mess of fluff sticking out in all random directions.

Lucifer resumed his pacing, folding his wings against his back so they couldn't stare as easily. He didn't say anything, but he was uncomfortable with the idea of letting anyone, even Michael, groom his wings in front of an audience.

Michael stood up where he'd been sitting on the edge of the bed and walked towards Lucifer. "It's okay, Heylel. If you really don't want your wings groomed in front of an audience, you could just groom mine."

The second archangel stopped his pacing as he stood face to face with Michael. His lower lip protruded into a pout. "I'll think about it."

* * *

Which was how the two oldest archangels came to be standing in front of a room full of healers. Raphael was standing at the edge of the room, near the front with Samandriel standing beside him and Gabriel stood at the back.

Raphael turned to address his class. "Michael and Lucifer are going to give you a demonstration on proper grooming techniques for the injured. Are there any questions before they begin?"

One angel in the back raised a hand.

"Yes?"

"Is it true that all the archangels are back in heaven and will be taking a larger role in running heaven?"

Raphael rolled his eyes. "Yes, but can we focus? Any questions about grooming before we begin?"

Three new hands went up. Raphael nodded towards the closest. "Heziel?"

"Can you explain the significance of wing oil in this demonstration?"

If Raphael had been capable of flushing, he would have. "Actually, please submit your questions in writing to my assistant by the end of the week and I will answer any relevant questions in the follow up discussion next week." He turned towards Michael and Lucifer. "Alright, then, the demonstration will start in a moment. Pretend that Michael has injured a wing, so after the dressing of the injury, the feathers have to be straightened and preened because the injured party can't reach without causing further damage. And for other reasons."

Michael sat on the edge of the provided infirmary bed, displaying his vibrant copper wings for the audience. The break was healing nicely so he could move it, but flying was still not recommended and would not be for awhile yet.

Raphael clapped once, causing a decorative binding to appear around Michael's uninjured wing. "After dressing the injury, the feathers themselves need to be looked after."

Lucifer moved to stand a little of to the side on Michael's left. Michael's feathers were less out of order than Lucifer's but that wasn't relevant. He then started gently straightening Michael's feathers, starting near the bandage.

"See how Lucifer has started near the imagined wound?" Raphael turned back towards his students. "Can anyone tell me why? Jophiel?"

"If the wound is to the flesh of the wing, feathers could have been pulled out or damaged. The feathers nearest the wound need to be examined so that the don't interfere with the growth of new feathers."

"That is correct."

Lucifer finished examining and grooming the feathers closest to the decorative bandage and moved further down.

Michael enjoyed the fingers in his wings and his fingers flexed on instinct as he wanted to dig them into a pair of wings to reciprocate the grooming. _When had someone last groomed his wings? When had he last groomed someone else?_

Lucifer could see Michael's fingers flexing, so inwardly smirking, he went for the feathers closest to the oil gland. The area was sensitive so he was careful not to brush his fingers more than a few teasing strokes. He'd missed this. _He'd missed this so much._

"Rafa?" Samandriel whispered, tugging on the hem of Raphael's shirt. "How come my wings don't do that?"

Raphael heard the door slam as Gabriel left and he looked down at the fledgling and then over at what he was talking about. Lucifer was grooming the feathers around one of Michael's oil glands and the healer _just knew_ there was teasing occuring. This was punctuated by the fact that there was visible oil glistening from the gland. Michael was still silent and unmoving, but Raphael was sure he was rapidly losing concentration, _not that he could be blamed._ "Demonstration over, everyone out," he ordered his students.

The students in question gave some questioning hesitancy, but eventually they all moved towards the exit.

Raphael reached the door when Michael let out a deep moan so he quickly shut the door behind him. Samandriel was still by his side.

"Why'd you cancel the demonstration?" the fledgling whined.

"They need some alone time. Wing grooming is a personal matter and I should have known better than to pressure them into a demonstration."

"But wing grooming isn't that personal. You groom my wings all the time."

"You are a fledgling and you like sticky things. What, would you rather I left you to your own devices when you get honey out of reach?" Raphael kept his tone gently teasing. There was a great difference between the traditional platonic grooming and the mating ritual Lucifer had been about to initiate in front of everyone _and a fledgling._

He should have known better. It had been an open secret once that Lucifer had intended to ask Michael to bond with him and he'd seen the aftermath when Michael found the mating token Lucifer had hidden away as a surprise for after he'd repented. Only to receive further suffering.

"Rafa? Are you mad Mika and Heyl ruined your demonstration?"

Raphael stopped walking and picked Samandriel up. "I'm not mad at them. They were really happy once, before the fall, and I'm angry that it took so much pain to bring us to here. They were going to bond and Someone took that away from them."

"That's sad." The fledgling buried his head in the healer's neck. "Where we going?"

"I thought we could go find Gabriel. I think he might feel left out."

It took Raphael some time to find Gabriel. His younger brother was sitting near the edge of heaven, feet dangling over the ledge. There was a wall that would keep anyone from falling, but it wasn't visible. It had probably infringed on Gabriel's view.

"Gabby?" Raphael whispered so as not to startle his brother as he approached.

Gabriel looked behind him. His cobalt wings were folded around his shoulders like a shawl, teal and gold accents unusually dull.

Samandriel squirmed in Raphael's grasp, kicking and wiggling until Raphael had to put him down. The fledgling ran towards the messenger and crawled into his lap.

Gabriel looked down at the child in his lap and moved an arm to better support him. With the other he ran a gentle hand down his back, as though petting a dog. "Hey, kid." His voice was hoarse, quiet, and he stared at the fledgling as though he wasn't sure how he'd come to be there.

Raphael approached the edge with some trepidation and was careful not to look down as he took a seat next to Gabriel. He wasn't sure what to do. He knew Gabriel well enough to know the youngest didn't have feelings for Michael or Lucifer the same way the pair had for each other, so he knew it wasn't that kind of jealousy. He himself had not been created with the capacity to have those needs or desires, so he did not understand them as well as another would have. He would have been happy in a room with Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel forever, and he'd thought maybe Gabriel would have been too, but Michael and Lucifer deserved their alone time. They had waited more than long enough to finally have this.

"Hey, little brother, what's wrong?"

Gabriel shook his head furiously. "I'm not jealous, I'm not!" The conviction was uttered with such force that it only served to make Raphael think that Gabriel was trying to convince himself this was true.

Raphael raised an eyebrow. "There's different kinds of envy. But like anger, it can mask another emotion as a self defense mechanism. I don't think you're jealous because you wanted one or the other all for yourself."

"No," Gabriel agreed. He folded himself slightly smaller, but careful not to squeeze the fledgling he was holding.

Samandriel shifted, reaching for one of Gabriel's primaries. "May I?" In lieu of an actual answer, the edge of the wing shifted closer to him and the fledgling grabbed it. The adult talk was boring, but Gabriel's feathers were enticing and beautiful. _And soft._

The healer waited for Gabriel to speak, and after a few moments of enjoying the sensation of childish fingers in his wing, he clarified himself. "I don't want anything to change," he whispered. "We're all back, and we were together, and _happy._ And I know that if anyone deserves to finally have their happily ever after, it's Mikha'el and Heylel. But I'm afraid they won't have time for us anymore and I don't want to lose them again."

"Why would bonding mean Mika and Heyl have less time for us?" Samandriel asked. His fingers got caught on one of the feathers Gabriel hid a wince as the fledgling tugged.

"They'll probably spend more alone time together," Raphael said.

"If they didn't reaffirm the bond, it would fade," Gabriel agreed. "Which would of course defeat the purpose of bonding in the first place."

Samandriel hummed, but not really in understanding. The feathers in his fingers were tantalizing, so he put it in his mouth. It was warm and smelled of grace. It was not as warm as Raphael's feathers, but warm enough. The fledgling shut his eyes as he sucked on the feather.

"I do hope that you'll tell me why there's still a fledgling in heaven," Gabriel said. He didn't pull his wing away from Samandriel because he didn't mind. He could feel the fledgling's content grace, and it soothed his own.

"Perhaps another time." Raphael would not tell the story in front of the fledgling, but he also knew that he would have to tell the other archangels the full story eventually. "They'll still have time for us, Gabriel. We won't abandon you again." He wrapped a wing around Gabriel, overlapping the cobalt wing still wrapped around himself. Raphael's wings were a steel blue, with greater accents of green and chestnut.

Gabriel leaned towards his brother. "I want something like what Michael and Lucifer share. Not _with_ either of them, just a bond for myself."

Raphael was sure that the other three archangels and at least some of the other angels had that same desire, but it was still something that he had difficulty understanding. But that didn't stop him from being supportive. "Yeah? Have your eye on anyone in particular?" He hoped Gabe did, if only so that he didn't depress his brother out any more. _He sure hoped Samandriel was sleeping._

"There's this one human… His soul is as bright as Lucifer's grace used to be, and his body is so aesthetically pleasing. He's so tall, and his _eyes_ Raph, they're this indescribable color, like where the tree leaves meld with the branches of the forest, and it goes on _forever and ever._ A never ending sea of timberline, both green and brown. He's really tall, and every part of him is so large and handsome. I wonder if the rest of him is just as proportional."

Samandriel yawned around the feather in his mouth. "Aren't all humans created proportionally?" he asked.

Raphael flushed with embarrassment. He didn't really want to hear all about Gabriel's crush. He'd had to deal with Michael's pining for a few thousand years, wasn't that enough? The fledgling wasn't old enough to need to hear about this kind of conversation.

"Maybe when you're older you'll understand," Gabriel suggested.

The comment stung Raphael, but the fledgling was nonplussed and didn't object, just asked, "When'll that be?"

Raphael could hear Gabriel's soft response of, "Maybe in a few aeons," but all Raphael could think about why Samandriel was still a fledgling, would _always_ be a fledgling. There would be no "growing up" for heaven's last fledgling.

"Okay," the fledgling replied, closing his mouth back around Gabriel's feathers and drifting into sleep.

"Let's go back," Raphael suggested. "Dri is a heavy enough sleeper, he won't wake up, and maybe Michael and Lucifer will join us when they're done making a mess of my beautiful demonstration room."

"Alright." Gabriel followed suit as Raphael stood. "But will you tell me why there's still a fledgling in heaven? The last batch should have all grown up by now."

"I don't want to talk about it," Raphael replied, sharper than intended. "Maybe later. Do you think the human could return your affection?"

"I don't know. I hope so, but I did some unforgivable things to him and his brother, so I might have burned that bridge. But I left him a little gift, I guess I'll find out eventually whether or not he liked it."

* * *

Sam and Dean were a little bit shell shocked when they finally made it to some other hotel. Sam was still holding onto the disk that Gabriel had shoved into his hands and told him to guard with his life. "Do you think Gabriel's okay?" Sam asked softly.

"I don't know," Dean answered honestly. "Lucifer seemed pretty irrational to me. Maybe…. Maybe if anyone can get through to him it'll be Gabriel?"

"I just… I don't want him to be hurt for something he didn't want apart of to begin with. I know he's a super powerful being, but he has feelings too, and this is our mess."

"Why don't you try to sleep, Sam?" Dean suggested. "We can ask Castiel to check the hotel in the morning, and watch the disk then. Okay?"

Sam slept poorly that night and Dean didn't sleep much better. First thing in the morning they called Castiel and asked if he would be willing to check the hotel because they wanted to know if Gabriel was okay.

The angel flew away, and then flew back. "There were no archangel deaths in the hotel, but at some point, _all four archangels_ were in that room."

"And Earth is still standing? And no one died?" Dean gave Cas a considering look. "That's good, right? Maybe they're going to repair their relationship and not try to destroy the world?"

"We're being optimistic," Sam said. "What if this is just the calm before the storm?"

"In that case, we should make sure we have everything we need for an apocalypse. Sammy, you start inventory, I'll be right behind you!"

Castiel watched Sam as he got to work on checking the contents of the trunk.

Dean watched the disk Gabriel had given them while sitting on the curb. Sam had wanted to watch it too, but there was so much to be done in the inventorying of the impala.

"I didn't need to see that!" Dean shouted, slamming the laptop closed more forcefully than necessary and ejecting the disk. "I'm sorry, Sam, it's pure porn. Gabriel had nothing helpful to give us."

Sam glanced over his shoulder at his brother. He let it go because Dean really did look disturbed by the porn. "He did spend a few thousand years as Loki. I'm not sure why we expected anything different."

"I just thought your analysis was accurate and that we could convince him to help us." Dean leaned over the closed laptop. "But now, I don't know."

Sam sighed. "We don't know what really happened yesterday. Cas said all four archangels were present. Maybe they'll surprise us."

"Or maybe Michael dragged hs unruly siblings to Heaven to face the music. And if so, what'll we do then?"

The younger hunter turned away. "If they aren't trying to end the world, what effect does it have on us? We're mortal, dean. What chance do we have against Heaven's general?"

"I know," Dean answered. "I guess we'll just have to prepare for the worst."

Dean tossed the dvd away without Sam watching it. There had been no message as far as the elder could tell and Sam saw no reason to argue. They'd spent so long fighting over things way bigger than a stupid porn video. Even if the creator of it could very well be dead. Sam could worry about the archangel he thought he understood the best on his own time.

They hunted and planned, driving around the country in a beautiful '67 Chevy Impala.

A few days after Dean threw the disk in the trash, Sam found it in a folder on the headboard. The disk was in his folder with papers from the most recent hunt. There was also a sentence highlighted that ended up solving the case.

Sam didn't remember highlighting it and Dean hadn't touched the folder, but he just threw the disk away and moved on.

The disk came back for the next case and the one after it. The third time Sam found it, he kept it. "Dean, I know you said Gabriel's Casa Erotica wasn't worth watching, but it's stalking me."

"That's…. Weird." Dean frowned. He didn't want to know about Gabriel's creepy shit. "I'm gonna go find a bar. I'll be back tomorrow, I ain't drunk enough for this shit."

Sam waited 15 minutes just in case Dean changed his mind or forgot something, but he didn't come back. So he watched the disk.

It was really hot gay porn, and while Sam may not have ever told Dean, _it was really hot._

The video was of Gabriel, a Gabriel copy, and another person. Sam couldn't help but find Gabriel aesthetically appealing and the video really was good quality, for, you know, porn. At the very end of the video there was a short message from Gabriel. "I hope you're still watching! Here's the rundown. I am still alive and my plan to make peace worked. Don't worry about the apocalypse, it's officially over!"

Sam couldn't help but laugh. Of course Gabriel would include his secret message at the end.

He texted the message to Dean and then watched the video over again with a quick prayer to Gabriel thanking him for whatever he'd done and for letting them know that he was okay.

The Winchesters got on with hunting. Their time dealing with Heaven seemed to be over, so they got back to business. Castiel hung around for reasons unknown and even lended a hand researching. He was their friend and they made him feel welcome.

Sam kept the disk and he watched it with some frequency. It wasn't a feeling of necessity so much as something he greatly enjoyed. The hunter was comfortable with his sexuality and it could be so difficult to find ( _and hide from Dean)_ good gay porn. And there was something imperious about this particular gift. _It helped that he still couldn't "lose" it._

One day about two weeks later, Sam was rewatching it with headphones while researching for a hunt. He expected Dean back with lunch any minute but he couldn't help himself.

Slight Sexual fantasy

He didn't risk anything that could actually be considered risque. His brother catching him with his hand down his pants was not on his list of preferred activities, although it had happened in the past. But that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy some good old fashioned fantasies. By this point, he'd watched the video enough times to have most of the scenes memorized, and could scroll through news articles while the soundtrack played, moans and the whispering sound of skin against skin.

Sam's fingers gradually grew slower on the keys of his laptop, as he imagined Gabriels mouth on his skin, his hot breath against his own neck, rather than that of the clone in the video. The way strong, thick fingers would feel gliding their way up under his shirt, and spreading themselves across his chest. The way Gabriel would feel under his lips and the noises he would make as Sam kissed him _just_ so. Sam could feel tremors of heat travel their way down his spine to pool in his abdomen.

As Sam's ideations/imaginings/fantasies progressed, he eventually abandoned the pretense of research all together to switch over to watching the video as well as listening to it. Seeing Gabriel's lithe form had Sam's fist clenching on the tables surface, and he almost couldn't help his eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds. He worked them back open to stare, panting, at someone that sparked something inside him he couldn't fully describe. He might not even go so far as to openly say it was affection, but there was something there that wound its way up his spine and wrapped itself around his throat whenever he thought about the archangel too long, or at a quiet time, or on Tuesdays, and it was definitely something. Imagining the angel in his lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and words, sweet, tender, meaningful _words_ being whispered against his cheek sent tremors through Sam's arms. His breathe shuddered through his body as he gazed, imagining the screen wasn't there, and that the hands on the screen were winding through his hair, lips on his lips, body against his body and that-...

* * Fin * *

Castiel flew into the room, landing behind Sam and getting a full view of Sam's screen. "Hello, Sam."

Sam jumped, slamming the laptop closed. "Hello, Cas! I'm so sorry, um…" The hunter blushed, looking embarrassed.

Castiel tilted his head as Sam blushed fiercely. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I know humans are sensual creatures."

Sam didn't know what to say to that. He could feel his cheeks burning with his embarrassment. It felt worse, almost, being caught by an angel. Weren't they above such temptations of the flesh? How did Cas even know?

"That's a special gift you have been given," Castiel added after a moment. "You should not be so uncomfortable. If Gabriel had not intended it for you, you would not have it."

That was reasonable, Sam supposed, except Gabriel had been a pagan for a long time. _He lived to mess with them. This disk could just be some elaborate joke he was about to be the butt of and didn't even know it yet._ "Special, how?" he asked incredulously.

"Gabriel has chosen this method as the initiation of his courting ritual. I do not understand the reasons behind his methods, but he's an archangel."

Sam blinked. "Courting rituals… courting?! Why _me_?!"

"If you don't return his feelings, you should tell him that before you break his heart. Don't lead him on. You are my friend, but Gabriel is my brother and he has been hurt enough."

"I… Cas, stop. I'm not going to hurt Gabriel. I didn't know this was a courting ritual, but I'm not opposed to that, necessarily, it's just a lot to think about." Sam considered his next words. "I hope this isn't how all all angels try to start their relationships?"

"I believe only Gabriel would be so bold. Although I heard that Michael and Lucifer almost consummated their bond in front of Raphael and his healers during a grooming demonstration."

Sam snorted before realizing Castiel was being sincere. "For real? He must have been so scandalized." He shook his head. "Unless angels have fewer inhibitions?" Gabriel's Casa Erotica didn't suggest the archangel had many inhibitions, but that didn't necessarily mean anything about angels as a whole.

"There was a fledgling present. Raphael was scandalized."

"Okay, then." Sam wasn't sure what to do with the new information. It was a lot to take in. "Was there something you came for? I'm sure you didn't come just to talk about Gabriel."

"I had a question for Dean, but I can see he's not here. I will wait elsewhere so as not to disturb you."

"No, Cas, it's fine. I expect Dean back any minute and I'd rather he not find out about this yet."

The door opened. "Find out about what? Sammy, I thought there were no secrets anymore."

Sam winced at hearing Dean's voice. "Remember that Casa Erotica disk? Well, I haven't been able to get rid of it, and it turns out it's a Gabriel thing. In all honesty, you probably don't want to know."

"Okay."

Dean's quick dropping of the subject surprises Sam, and the hunter stared at Dean, wondering momentarily if this was a shifter using his brother's body.

"Shit, no, Sam. Don't look at me like I'm dying. I didn't mean what I said when I walked in. I thought you and Cas were planning a surprise and I thought I was fishing. You told me Gabriel left a message at the end of the Casa Erotica disk and I have no intention of prying further into it than I already did. There's not enough brain bleach to unsee what I saw."

"Do you not find male bodies pleasing?" Castiel asked.

Dean sputtered and blushed. "What does that…? Why does it…?" He looked down at the ground as though it might swallow him and as though he would prefer that to being there a second longer. "I didn't need to see two copies of your brother fucking someone who looked like Sam! It was disturbing! No, I didn't find it hot! That has nothing to do with whether or not I find men attractive!"

Sam did not want to hear this. He did not need to know why Castiel was asking about his brother's sexual preferences and why Dean had been so disturbed by the video. "Aren't angels genderless, Cas?"

"Angels are genderless, yes, but the vessels they inhabit do have gender. I use the term brothers, sisters and siblings to refer to the rest of the host loosely because it is one of the better translations, but is not exact. Brothers-in-arms or comrades are a few more words that the Enochian can translate into. None of us are exactly genetically related, although some of us feel more familiar towards others than some."

"Shit," Sam mumbled. "We should have asked if you had a pronoun preference."

Castiel tilted his head. "I am wearing a male vessel, why would it not be reasonable for you to use male pronouns to refer to me?"

"Because you don't really have gender?" Sam reopened his laptop and pulled up a blank internet browser. "Not all people identify with the sex they were assigned at birth and instead are nonbinary or genderfluid or transgender, and choose to use other pronouns. It's polite to refer to people using the pronouns they prefer. In English, some examples of pronouns besides he/him and she/her are they/them or xe/xem." Sam saw Castiel tilt his head at they/them. "They/them is used as a singular in this case."

Castiel nodded. "I and a few of my siblings have a strong preference for vessels of a certain gender. I don't mind the masculine pronouns."

The Winchesters weren't sure what to say to that.

"I have it on good authority that Gabriel made his vessel himself and that he also has a preference for the masculine form over the feminine. For both himself and his partners."

Sam blushed and rolled to the side, slamming his head into the mattress in his embarrassment. Gabriel's preferred pronouns was something he and Gabriel would have to work out between the two of them, if he decided to show his face and if Castiel's earlier comments were truthful. He did not need Castiel going on about it while Dean was _right there._

Dean laughed. He had no idea why Cas and Sam had been talking about Gabriel or the porno or why Sam looked as though he wanted to be anywhere other than right here, but he was all for taking his older brother responsibilities seriously and embarrassing Sam about his crush to the best of his abilities.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. He did not understand why Sam was embarrassed about knowing Gabriel's preference. Gabriel had clearly initiated a courting, even if Sam didn't understand all that entailed or meant. Any angel would have been beyond honored to have been courted by an archangel, so why was Sam taking it so strangely? Gabriel's methods _were_ unorthodox, but they still seemed more human than the traditional approach. Not that what Michael and Lucifer had been doing was traditional either, but that was just an example of why forcing two mates into delaying the consummation of their bond was a bad idea.

But that didn't matter. The apocalypse was over, that mattered. They had all the time in the world now that it wasn't about to end. Their choices had been made, the die had been cast, and the rolls in their favor. All would be well.


	5. (Non)Domestic Bliss

I would consider this pg 13 but if you think the rating should be higher, feel free to leave me a comment. There is vague mentions of sexual content, but mostly, these two archangels are just cuddling.

Beta'd by HyruleHearts1123 and ThallenCambricaltran. All mistakes belong to me! I have never ever written anything like this before, I hope you like it!

* * *

Michael blinked sleepily, opening his eyes so he could see his still sleeping mate. Sometime while they'd been sleeping, Lucifer had pulled himself against his side, and Michael's healing wing was draped haphazardly over him. _He must have started shivering_ , Michael thought, mild concern creeping into his thoughts at the idea that Lucifer still couldn't keep himself warm even here in heaven.

While Michael was trying to organize his thoughts, Lucifer stirred slightly, trying to press himself even closer to Michael. The elder archangel could only smile and wrap his wing tighter around his mate, holding him as close as they could physically be.

"Go 'sleep, Mica, thinking too loud," Lucifer mumbled in a sleep addled state. " _'M sleepy."_

Michael could only grin as he rested his head against Lucifer's. Who was he to argue against Lucifer's request when his grace was screaming that _they deserved this._

Sometime later, Michael stirred again. The angle of light coming in through the window had changed and his wing felt stiff. Now that he was awake, he could feel dried wing oil on his skin and he was sure Lucifer was just as messy.

Glancing around, Michael realized they were still lying on the demonstration bed. _Raphael was going to kill them._

A look under his wing determined that Lucifer was still asleep, so with a whisper, Michael willed them both clean. "I love you," the eldest archangel whispered, peppering little kisses down his mate's neck. He waited a moment between each kiss, checking to see if Lucifer would stir.

Lucifer stirred when felt something on his Adam's Apple along with a whispered, _"I love you, Heylel_." Lucifer considered pretending to still be asleep. He didn't want Mikha'el to stop. He could have laid there, basking in his mate's warmth forever.

Michael pulled back, shifting so he was on his knees. He licked his lips, trying to decide what to do next if Heylel was still sleeping. His wings looked tantalizing, but he wasn't going to touch them without his mate's explicit permission, and definitely not while he was sleeping.

The Lightbringer felt Michael pull away. He hadn't heard anything besides him, so he didn't think they had been interrupted, and he could _feel_ the other staring at him a moment later. When Michael stared at him for seconds and seconds, he couldn't hold back a whimper.

The eldest archangel smirked and leaned forward. "So you are awake," he whispered, kissing Lucifer's cheek, next to the ear he was whispering into.

"Don't stop," Lucifer mumbled when Michael leaned up again. "Please," he added as an afterthought when he felt Michael put a finger on his neck.

"Why?" Michael asked, kissing the other side of Lucifer's neck from where he'd trailed the kisses earlier. "Do you like it?"

"Mhmm," Lucifer agreed. He loved it, loved Mikha'el, but as he opened his mouth to say so, he realized that he couldn't. _God had taken everything he loved away from him and put him in a cage. Every image, daydream, pleasant thought he'd tried to create for himself in the cage had fallen apart into nightmare when the words had been spoken. He couldn't say it, couldn't risk Mikha'el turning away in disgust and leaving him here where Rafa'el's healers would find him abandoned and at the height of humiliation. Those who disobeyed didn't receive redemption, didn't find peace with their mates, they went unloved because they deserved neither love nor companionship._

Michael couldn't see what dark thoughts Lucifer was thinking, but he felt the temperature of his mate's skin drop. He stretched, settling his entire body alongside Lucifer's. It was only for their benefit that he was several inches taller. "I love you, Heylel," he whispered, stroking Lucifer's cheek and pressing a kiss to his shoulder, mere inches from where a wing emerged. "Te amō," he repeated, this time in Latin, as he kissed the other shoulder. "Mi amor," he said in Spanish as Lucifer trembled.

Lucifer whimpered again. He was so cold. The Cage had been as far away from creation and light as God had been able to build it, so the temperature had always been an absence of all heat, and he'd been down there for aeons. _Time moved faster down there, so he had no idea how many millenia he'd been trapped._ _Eventually, he'd begun to believe that he'd never get out, and his grace had lost its warmth._

"I'm not going anywhere," Michael whispered. He wrapped his arms around Lucifer. Moving so he was straddling his mate, he pressed his wings flat against Lucifer's so he could spread his warmth. "May I touch your wings?" he asked.

Lucifer nodded. " _Yes._ " Mikha'el wouldn't hurt him, not in that way, and Lucifer wanted nothing more than for his mate to run his warm fingers through his feathers.

Michael lifted his left wing up so that he could lower his head towards Lucifer's right. When he was just close enough to not be touching it, he blew gently, watching the feathers quiver under his attention.

" _More, Mikha-_." Lucifer gasped, shuddering as Michael dragged his tongue along the sensitive inner curve of his wing.

"Where?" Michael asked. He pressed a kiss to Lucifer's collar bone, and then another to his breast bone.

As Michael shifted to kiss Lucifer's face again, Lucifer flicked at Michael's earlobe with his tongue. Sometimes Lucifer's tongue was forked. It was not that he was like a serpent, it was that their tongues were forked in his image. He used it to his advantage, this time. One fork rubbed where the lobe met his face, and the other ran up the outer edge of his ear.

Michael smiled, letting out a contented hum. There had been so much lost time, but they had forever to make up for it. "I love you," he said. "I love you, _so much."_

Lucifer switched tactics and arched upwards to capture Michael's mouth with his own. He wrapped one lean hand around Michael's head while the other scratched lightly at his scalp.

The eldest archangel opened his mouth, letting Lucifer lick his way inside, split tongue exploring eagerly. He was still straddling Lucifer and he pushed forward, encouraging Lucifer to fall back against the bed. Lucifer's nails dug in more firmly to his scalp. Michael whined with all the sensations pleasantly teasing him, and his hands found their way into Lucifer's wings as he sought something to ground himself.

Fingers kneaded the sensitive skin of Lucifer's wings. He pulled out of the kiss, panting even though they didn't need to breathe.

" _Mine_ ," Michael growled, following Lucifer out of the kiss and nibbling at his lower lip through the words. "I love you, and you are all _mine._ " His fingers continued working through Lucifer's wings, straightening some of the vanes, but mostly rubbing the surface.

Lucifer whined. "Love… Love you." He choked, body stiffening as he ground out the words and then waited, waited for Michael to leave him like this and abandon him to whatever fate awaited. _Humiliation witnessed by the entire host._

The fingers left his wings and Lucifer could only hold his breath, but a second later arms were wrapping around him and then a body's entire weight settled on top of him. _Mikha'el was lying on him, wings flat against his own._

Michael rested his head against Lucifer's shoulder. "Love you beyond words," he mumbled. " _I'll prove it_."

"Uh-huh." Lucifer's tone was more amusement than actual disbelief. He closed his eyes, embracing the weight that was not so uncomfortable paired with Michael's intense heat, in fact it was more than satisfying. It was like sunbathing in a neutron star, except wholey pleasant. The warmth was so comforting that he couldn't help but relax into it.

The eldest archangel smiled as he felt his mate soften beneath him. _Raphael was probably wondering where they were. He'd still murder them, but he was probably also worried._ Lucifer wasn't asleep yet, but it wasn't hard to predict that he would be shortly if they continued languishing here. Smirking, he climbed off his mate, putting a finger on Lucifer's lips when he whined. Carefully, Michael scooped Lucifer into his arms bridal style and carried him off to the room in the old wing that they and their siblings had been sharing. It was time for a real nest, especially since there was also a fledgling in their care.

"Where are we going?" Lucifer asked, too comfortable to object to being carried. He was better surrounded in Michael's warmth this way, too. This was even better than that time he actually fell asleep inside a neutron star.

"Back to our nest," Michael declared.

Lucifer didn't say anything to that, and they made it back to the room without running into anyone. No one was there, either.

"Now we need a proper nest," Michael said.

"Sleep first," Lucifer yawned.

Michael wanted to argue, but Lucifer was already dozing off in his arms so he put his brother down on the bed. Instead of joining him, Michael set to work building the perfect nest.

* * *

When Lucifer woke up again, he was not on the bed Michael had put him down on, he was sure of it. He wasn't convinced he was on any bed, but he could feel the warmth of more than one archangel near him, so he wasn't going to worry about it.

Peeking out with one eye, Lucifer was able to determine that he was actually lying in the middle of a nest. The bottom of the nest was made with soft fleece blankets and pillows, covered with a medium dusting of molted down in various shades of pink, red, and blue. There were also articles of clothing floating around. He recognized a few of the soft shirts as things they had worn in their childhood that had been of varying importance, and as far as he could tell, there were plenty of things belonging to Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. It made sense none of his nest items had been saved, someone had probably destroyed them once he'd been locked in the cage.

 _Where was Mikha'el?_ Lucifer wondered. Raphael and Gabriel were sleeping at his back, but his mate was not here. Had he been abandoned after all? The cage had always hurt him when he least expected it.

The door opened with a blast of grace and Lucifer almost didn't have the energy to roll over. The Host had caught on and they were all about to die. He didn't really want to face them, but he eventually rolled over because he had enough pride left to want to look his murderers in the face.

Someone was standing in the doorway with a mountain of fabric and items in hand. The top of the pile reached the ceiling and the doorframe was providing difficulty for whoever was trying to get in. _Mikha'el._ The eldest shoved, trying to force his way through the doorway, but only managed to cause the pile to topple over and trip himself.

Lucifer laughed. He couldn't help it. His mate could be such a goof. It was refreshing to see that that much had not changed.

Michael let out a huff as he landed in the pile of blankets and clothing he'd been trying to bring to the nest. It had taken a lot of work, once, but he'd saved every baby blanket and piece of clothing that Lucifer had ever owned, because it had not seemed fair that he should lose everything, especially not once he'd found out the truth of what God had done.

Lucifer watched some of the articles falling and recognized one of the blankets as one of his own. Michael had brought back many of his things, if not _all_ of them. "Mikha'el?"

"I couldn't stand by and let them destroy your belongings, so I saved them." Michael gave Lucifer a sheepish smile as he climbed back to his feet. He walked towards his mate as he reached into his pocket to pull something out. "I found this…."

Lucifer couldn't see the object at first, but his eyes widened as the item came into view. It was a necklace with a pendant made from the core of a neutron star and bound with two threads of grace, one pale pink and the other dark mahogany. "You found it…"

"I found the letter, too. It's beautiful."

"I made it for you," Lucifer whispered. "It was supposed to be a bonding token from me to you." But everything had gone wrong when he'd tried to right his wrongs.

"I know." Michael walked towards Lucifer, laying down next to him. The rest of the nest building with Lucifer's belongings could be done later. "I love you. I love your bonding token, but I would have loved you anyway." He wrapped his arms around his mate, and Lucifer leaned against him, basking in the warmth.

Gabriel and Raphael slept on, undisturbed by the lovers in their quarters. They did not notice as Lucifer put the necklace around Michael's neck. Nor Michael initiating a chaste kiss.

"Mine," Michael said, staring at his beautiful mate. Lucifer was lying on his side on the floor, eyes closed, wings splayed. "My treasure. Mine."

"Yours," Lucifer agreed. It was easier than trying to say anything else and what more needed to be said? "All yours."

Michael carefully wrapped his wings around Lucifer and let the closeness ease him into sleep. The nest building had been difficult, but so worth it.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! You can find me on Tumblr and on AO3 as Sageclover61, come say hello!


	6. Divine Knowledge

I have chosen to use this 'Verse as my Nanowrimo project, so happy November! All the thanks to my lovely betas, Hyrule and Thallen, for throwing ideas at me! The next chapter came very close to being a new story altogether, but I managed, just barely, to make it fit. This story is also now a Good Omens crossover, because why not. Enjoy! There's not going to be a lot of spoilers for the book, Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, but I recommend reading the first page for context nonetheless.

If you'd like to come shout at me on Tumblr, my username is sageclover61 there (and on AO3.).

* * *

"Wake up! Wake up! Rafa, it's snowing!"

Raphael opened his eyes. He was surrounded by a mess of blankets and pillows and it took him a minute to remember that he'd come back to find Michael making a nest of the room they'd all been sharing and he had been of half a mind to sleep somewhere else. Michael had convinced him not to leave, but he'd refused to help. It was part of Michael's bonding ritual, after all. Raphael was not getting in the middle of that. Nope. Not happening.

"Rafa! Snow!" the fledgling repeated, reminding Raphael why he was awake.

The healer stood, stretching his limbs and shaking out the feathers that had stuck to his wings. They itched enough to remind him that he was about due a molt. It would have to wait, Lucifer hadn't had one in the cage nor Michael while he'd been sleeping. Lucifer needed his the most, of course, and he wasn't sure how Gabriel's feathers were doing.

Raphael approached where Samandriel was standing in the doorway. "Snowing. Where?"

"I show you!" The fledgling reached for Raphael's hand and the archangel allowed the fledgling to lead him. The healer wasn't sure where they were going, but he didn't mind.

Samandriel led him towards the Axis Mundi. The garden was at the very center of heaven, with the city built around and outside it. When Zachariah had chased the hunters through heaven, along the Axis Mundi, the road had led to the garden because they had not been able to see the city of heaven. The road always led to the garden, _all roads lead to Rome._ In the reverse, the mortal heavens were outside the city and backtracking along the road would lead deeper into them. When had Samandriel started following the Axis Mundi?

The Axis Mundi was not difficult for angels to navigate. They saw it for what it really was. Humans were less restricted by reality, and the Winchesters had been able to shape it as they'd desired because they were not bound by it. They'd seen it in a way their minds were capable of understanding, and because of that they had not followed a straight path and had instead created shortcuts.

Samandriel, however, was a fledgling, and did not adhere to the rigidity angels had been determined to bind themselves to. Their brethren had chosen to become emotionless and obedient beings without any expression of creativity or free will. They did not try to make changes.

The fledgling led Raphael along the Axis Mundi, and it shifted for him. Not noticeably, but Raphael felt it. It was shaped by Samandriel's desires, even if he didn't consciously notice.

They followed the road. It didn't enter any of the human spaces, just a walkway between and around them. Raphael had no idea where the road would lead, since they were traveling away from the garden. There were other roads to the gates of heaven, would it lead them to some edge of heaven? Would it travel past all the human space forever? He didn't know, wasn't sure he cared to know, except he didn't want Samandriel to get lost following it. Would the fledgling fall out of Heaven if he wasn't better supervised?

"We're almost there."

Samandriel's voice cut through Raphael's thoughts. He wasn't sure where they were, except just ahead of them it appeared as though the Axis Mundi stopped.

"Where?" he asked.

"There." The fledgling pulled him to the very end of the path and then a few steps further, pulling him into a human heaven.

The first thing Raphael noticed was the snow. It was snowing hard and within seconds his wings were coated. It would have obscured human vision with how heavy the snowfall was, but he was an archangel and he was less limited.

"Snow, Rafa!" the fledgling squealed.

Raphael smiled. He'd wondered at times if he'd failed in looking after the fledgling by giving him jobs i the healing of their siblings when Samandriel might have preferred playing. Except the fledgling had expressed joy at being "helpful" so it didn't seem so unfair. But he hadn't had a lot of time to watch the child at play, and here he was, expressing simple joy at this weather.

The fledgling tipped over backwards, laughing as he hit the snow on the ground and sent up a puff of snow as it gave way underneath him. Samandriel wiggled, dragging his hands and feet through the snow.

"What are you doing, Sami?" Raphael asked. He didn't quite understand the action, but it didn't matter because the fledgling was having fun.

"Humans think they're snow angels, but they don't know what wings really look like." He sat up and spread his wings before lying back down in the snow, getting snow all over his wings and leaving an impression of them in the snow.

The archangel stared in confusion, shifting his wings to shake off the snow. The cold made the itchiness worse. _Can't molt now, not yet,_ he reminded himself. The cold wasn't very noticable to his form, except their wings were the most sensitive part of their bodies, especially around the time of a molt.

The snow stuck to Samandriel's wings and he squealed in delight. "Tickles!" he laughed, hopping around as though in an attempt to get the snow off.

Beyond the yard, there was a building. It didn't look like a house, more like an old tavern. There was a neon sign reading, "Harvelle's Roadhouse."

The door swung open and two people exited the building, both women. The first was a young blonde woman and the other was an older woman.

Samandriel stopped jumping up at and down, turning to look at the people. "Hello!" he shouted at them as they walked through the snow towards them.

"Sami," Raphael said as it looked like he was about to make a beeline for the blonde. "Do you know them?"

"That's Jo and Ellen," Samandriel answered.

"Have you ever made a snow person?" the younger woman asked, clearly addressing Samandriel. Without waiting for a response from either of them, she kneeled in the snow and started pulling it together as though pushing it together.

Samandriel watched curiously before moving to join her, already asking questions. Raphael didn't stop him, curious to see what the intention of the humans was. He glanced towards the older woman without letting Samandriel out of his sight.

The older woman did not approach Samandriel, but instead approached Raphael. "What brings you here?" she asked, straight to the point.

Raphael tilted his head, then motioned towards the fledgling. "Samandriel wanted me to see the snow."

The woman nodded. "Enthusiastic child. It didn't start snowing until after he arrived." She looked towards him. "Is that normal?"

Raphael had wondered if Samandriel had influenced the weather, but he hadn't thought about it greatly. He shrugged. "Would you like me to fix it? This place should reflect the person whose memory this is." He studied both of them, and found that neither women were memories, but he could also tell that _this_ wasn't a creation of their memories, but someone else's. That was interesting, as it shouldn't have been possible. Whose memory was it?

"I think Sami would be upset by that, he seems to like the snow." The woman turned her head to where the younger woman and the fledgling appeared to be building some kind of humanoid thing out of snow.

Raphael wasn't sure that Samandriel had ever seen snow before this. The weather didn't change within the confines of the angel part of heaven and Samandriel wasn't really supposed to wander around out here all by himself. Humans in Heaven couldn't, for the most part, hurt Samandriel, but that didn't mean he couldn't get lost or that Raphael didn't worry about his charge. But the woman was right, and he'd never prioritized humans over Samandriel before. He wasn't about to start now.

"My name is Ellen," the human added after a moment. "That's my daughter, Jo." She nodded towards the blonde.

Raphael wasn't sure exactly how old the younger woman was, but he decided she was probably in her early 20's.

"Who are you?" Ellen asked next. "And what are you to Sami?"

There was a strange protectiveness in the woman's voice that Raphael didn't understand. It should have been pretty clear to the woman that Samandriel, at least, was an angelic child, and that he was an angel. So why would she feel any protective feelings towards a child that wasn't even her species?

"I'm Raphael," he said. He watched as Ellen's eyes widened. There was recognition in her expression, suggesting that she perhaps knew some about who he was. "Samandriel is my…" Raphael had to think about the answer to that, because there were plenty of English words that only carried some of the meaning behind what he was to Samandriel. "Ward, I think you would say? I'm his guardian, but that's not an exact translation, as he's a ward of Heaven. He's my youngest brother, and I take care of him."

"And let a child his age run around by himself?" She glanced at him, a bit skeptical, with a hint of displeasure.

"Why not? He's almost six thousand Earth years old and there's very little that could hurt him." Raphael swallowed, trying to ignore the thoughts trying to creep up of what _could_ hurt Sami, _had_ hurt Sami. He was also fairly certain that everyone knew what would happen to anyone who tried to hurt _his_ fledgling. It had only needed to happen once.

Ellen raised an eyebrow. "He's six thousand years old, and still a fledgling? How old must the rest of your kind be?"

"Six thousand years ago, Earth was formed. We did not have a way to measure time before that, but time passes here at the same rate it does in Hell, with approximately ten years here for every month that passes on Earth. Sami is the exception, not the rule. He'll always be a fledgling. _My_ fledgling."

Ellen's eyebrow did not drop. " _Your_ fledgling. What, did you do something to keep him from aging or-"

" _No_." Raphael's denial was more forceful than necessary, and his teeth clenched as he fought back the minor urge to _smite_ her for suggesting such a thing. "No," he repeated after a moment. "I look after Samandriel because someone has to, and because I want to, and because I _might_ feel some responsibility for what happened, but it was _not_ my idea, nor my desire, and it was _not_ something I supported. I _smote_ the hubristic seraph who did this." It had been an unintentional display of Raphael losing his considerable control and there was no fighting the memories this time, but he didn't try to fight them as much as he might have otherwise. Samandriel was occupied, and this human seemed unlikely to share this with anyone else.

The eyebrow did lower itself this time, and Ellen nodded. "If it wasn't something you wanted, why did she do it? You were the highest ranking angel around at the time, weren't you?"

Raphael chose not to question how she knew that. Michael had been slumbering, and the rest had been long gone. Some of them were still gone, but that wasn't relevant. "A long time ago, I asked this seraph to lessen the pain of a suffering archangel whose agony would have killed him. I did not know that in doing so, she would continue experimenting to see what other things she could do. She sought to create an army of _fledglings_. Sami was her first and only test subject, and not only did she fail, but he managed to escape and find me. She had been chasing him, and in my wrath at such a blatant destruction of innocence, I smote her." He shook his head to keep the memories from overwhelming him. It was over and done with, and Sami rarely seemed the worse for wear for it. He was an excitable child, and he always would be, and there was nothing inherently wrong with that. "He is _my_ excitable fledgling and I wouldn't have him any other way." A warmth softened the harsh tone of his words.

Ellen gave him a soft smile. "No, I bet you wouldn't. No parent worth their salt would have their children any other way."

Jo and Samandriel had a large ball of snow, and had placed a second, slightly smaller ball of snow on top of it. They were now in the process of rolling a third ball of snow.

Raphael and Ellen watched in relative silence as the human and the fledgling finished building the third ball of snow and then lifting it on top of the other two. It looked like it took considerably less work for the two of them to lift it than anyone would have guess.

"Now for the-"

"Wings!" Samandriel exclaimed. "We can't forget the wings!"

Jo looked confused. "How are we going to make wings?"

"I show you!" And then Samandriel proceeded to sculpt three pairs of wings onto the snow angel. At some point, there also ended up being a halo floating above the angel's head. They made eyes and mouth for the snowman out of colored stones they found in the ground.

When the snow angel was complete, Samandriel bounded over to Raphael's side. "Rafa! Rafa! Come see! I made a snow you!"

Raphael smiled. "Show me," he said, in English for the benefit of the humans. He'd long since learned to understand Samandriel's way of speaking, but that didn't mean he always knew what language the fledgling was using.

The fledgling took the archangel's hand and led him closer. "It has six wings, just like you sometimes. And your halo, you know, the fancy one!"

They walked around the snowman so Samandriel could point out these features. The fledgling was right about Raphael having three sets of wings. All the archangels had three pairs of wings, but the second two pairs had specific purposes and were not typically visible the rest of the time. But Samandriel had seen them all, once.

"Rocks look just like your eyes, Rafa," the fledgling added, and continued pointing out the similarities.

"You made a beautiful snow angel," Raphael said quietly to the eager fledgling.

"Good!" The child wrapped his arms around Raphael, hugging him. "Up!"

Raphael laughed and hoisted the fledgling up onto his hip as the child yawned and leaned into him. "Is it naptime, Sami?"

"No!" Sami denied, whining softly as he did, but he didn't ask to be let down or pull away. Instead, he put his head on Raphael's shoulder and closed his eyes.

Raphael turned to where Ellen and Hi were watching. "You'll have to excuse me, this little one could use some quiet time."

"No problem at all," Ellen said, still smiling. "You're both welcome whenever you want to drop by."

"Hear that, Sami? They want you to come back sometime." Raphael thanked the humans, and then headed back to the family nest. Samandriel was asleep by the time they returned.

The other three archangels in the family nest were still sleeping, so Raphael laid down a few feet from Gabriel and pretended to himself that his wings were not going to itch dreadfully once the snow started melting. Before he dozed off, he gently dried Samandriel's wings off so they wouldn't get itchy or chafed. His own wings were too big to try doing the same.

Sometime later he felt someone shake his shoulder. "There's too much to do for you to sleep another century!"

"If you wake my fledgling, I will end you," he growled without opening his eyes.

"Samandriel? He woke up awhile ago and went to play."

Now that Raphael was more awake, he could tell that this was Gabriel. That was not a surprise. He opened his eyes to find that Gabriel was right there. "Well, if you've stolen away my snuggle buddy, maybe I'll just have to steal you away!" He reached out to tug Gabriel towards him.

Gabriel laughed. He struggled, but not enough to suggest he really wanted free. "No! No! You can't have me!" He continued laughing, even as he moved to snuggle against Raphael's chest.

The Healer froze at the sudden onslaught of memories and nausea rose in the back of Raphael's throat. This brought up too many memories of a time before the Fall and other archangels he had snuggled with. A whimper escaped him against his will. He'd wanted his family whole, damnit, not just half.

Michael, Heylel, and Gabriel had been easiest to bring home, because the implications had been that they would be the ones in the middle of the world ending apocalypse. Raphael knew whose memories had been wiped, and that he was safe and at least a little happy, which would have to be enough for now, but then there were the two presumed dead. Samael, whose existence had been almost entirely wiped from their minds by the Creator, and Azi, Raphael's identical twin.

"Raph, it's okay," Gabriel whispered, instantly sobering at seeing his brother in distress and wrapping his wings around Raphael in a hug. "It's okay to miss them."

Raphael pressed his forehead against Gabriel's shoulder. He took a shuddering breath, and allowed himself to cry about what the Creator has done, just this once.

They laid there for a long time, Raphael finally letting go of pain and emotions he'd buried for thousands of years.

Michael and Lucifer watched sadly from where they were lying. Michael was mindlessly running his fingers through Lucifer's feathers. He was trying to groom them properly, but some of the feathers were falling out instead of coming clean. "I think your wings are trying to tell you something," Michael said. "When was your last molt?"

Lucifer shrugged. "Before the cage."

Gabriel leaned back when Raphael fell into an uneasy sleep. "I think Raph's pushing his down."

Michael shook his head in exasperation. "He always did have a harder time hiding his emotions when he was supposed to be molting." The eldest archangel glanced at Gabriel. "And what about you? When was your last molt?"

Gabriel sulked. "Before I ran away. I couldn't very well molt on Earth and give away the fact that I wasn't what I was pretending to be." He sighed. "And you, Mikha? Going to rub it in our faces that you probably molted like clockwork?"

"I took a very long nap, so I don't think I molted either." He eyed Raphael tenderly. "I imagine I'll have to ask Rafa'el about that."

"Let him sleep," Lucifer said. "If we're all about to molt, he's going to need it."

Gabriel untangled himself carefully without waking Raphael and stood up. "I'll be right back, but there's something I need to take care of real quick."

Samandriel watched with curiosity as Gabriel wrapped a piece of shiny paper around a book. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"An old friend of mine collects rare books, and I think he'd appreciate this one. I think it's the only copy left."

"Who's your friend?" the fledgling asked.

Gabriel shook his head. "It's a secret, Sami. But I think it's about time he came home."

Samandriel watched, eyes wide, as Gabriel waved a hand and the book disappeared. With the package gone, Gabriel led the fledgling back to the family nest.

* * *

In Soho, there was a thud on the doorstep of an old bookstore while a demon and an angel were drinking tea in the backroom.

"What was that?" the demon asked.

"I'm not sure, Dearest," the angel replied, standing. "I'll go take a look."

A few minutes later the angel had returned, this time carrying a wrapped present. The wrapping paper was a metallic blue color, and there was no tag identifying the sender or the recipient.

"What is that?"

"I'm not sure. Let's find out." The angel tore the paper carefully, revealing a very old book. The title was not very legible, but the angel was able to determine that it read, "The true story of the Arthurian Legends." Sticking out of the book was a piece of paper, so he pulled it out. As far as he could tell it was a letter, but it didn't have a proper heading and it was signed with nothing more than the letter G, which was more than any of the past objects left randomly on his doorstep had included.

"Why would someone called G leave that on your doorstep?"

"Someone's been doing it for a few thousand years, Crowley, and I have yet to figure out why."

The demon raised an eyebrow. "Have you kept everything? Perhaps there's a pattern or something. They must have left some clue as to their identity!"

"Maybe they did. I have saved everything they left, just in case the proper recipient ever dropped by. I'll be right back."

When the angel returned, he was holding a wooden crate. He placed it on the table in the back room so that they could both get a better look at the contents.

Crowley rummaged through the bin. He took care not to damage any of the contents as he laid them across the table, and when he was done, he said, "Aziraphale, I think someone knows you very very well."

"Do you really think they're for me?"

The contents of the box were two things. One of a kind books, many of them supposed to have been lost to the ages, and scraps of parchment that contained vague letters or the drawings of children.

"I have read all the books. They're all very interesting. But I thought the notes attached were too personal to be sent by someone I don't know."

Crowley glanced at some of the notes. "I think they do know you, Azi. I think you know them too, even if you don't remember it."

Aziraphale frowned, and then pointed at a specific book. "That was the first one that came. It arrived after a week I have never been able to recall. I had thought it was just a coincidence."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "And you didn't think that was significant?" He shook his head, then reached for the newest book and note. "If this really is the first time they have identified themselves, then there must be something important in this book that they want you to know."

"I am familiar with King Arthur, Crowley. We lived through it, remember?" Despite his words, Aziraphale opened the book.

Instead of words, this was a book of paintings. They flipped through it, and there was no writing or secret messages on the pages. It was just old paintings of various scenes that were recognizable as being of Arthurian legend.

Except there was a specific painting that stood out to them both. "Isn't that your flaming sword?" Crowley asked at the same time Aziraphale said, "That looks like our duck pond."

Crowley glanced at the note G had sent. It read, 'Now is the time to reclaim your rightful heritage!' The demon laughed as the realization hit him.

The angel stared at his demon. "Yes, Dear?"

Crowley couldn't stop laughing, but he eventually ground out, "They, they are comparing you to King Arthur returning."

"Oh," he said. "Does that make you Merlin?"

The demon laughed harder. When he finally stopped laughing, he grinned. "Let's go check out the duck pond."

"But if my sword really was there, wouldn't we have figured that out by now?" Aziraphale asked.

"Maybe someone put spells on it." Crowley shrugged. "Either way, I want to know. Let's go on an adventure."

That's how the angel ended up in the passenger seat of the Bentley, with Crowley driving far too quickly in the direction of the Tadfield duck park. When they arrived, they headed straight for the pond and went to stand in the middle of the bridge.

"Why would it be here?" Aziraphale asked, looking over the railing and into the water. It was murky, impossible to see the bottom.

"You never know," Crowley said. "Maybe it's part of that ineffable plan you're always going on about? You gave your sword to the humans and I led them astray. Otherwise we wouldn't be standing here today."

"Very true," the angel agreed. He closed his eyes. "We can't just miracle away all the water, the humans would notice."

"Getting water on this suit would ruin it," Crowley pouted. He reached for Aziraphale's hand anyway.

"It is my sword. If it's here, it should come." Aziraphale focused on what he could _feel_. The hand of his mate, the wood of the bridge, the water in the pond. Wards that he'd never ever noticed before, that felt _familiar,_ but not in a way he could identify. He could only see them because he was specifically looking, but even then, others would not have. _They felt kind of like his own grace, somehow._ _But beneath it, he felt the warmth he remembered. It had been a flaming sword, after all. His flaming sword. "Come, IADENAHMAD."_

Meanwhile, in Heaven, an archangel shot out of slumber with a scream that even Aziraphale heard.

The waters of the pond parted and the sword flew into his hand. His wings sprung free, not one pair, but his primary set of wings and two more pairs that he'd forgotten about spread out behind him. His eyes glowed with grace long forgotten and the archangel of secrets and knowledge remembered everything.


	7. Eden

"The mind is its own place and in itself can make a heaven of hell and a hell of heaven. What matter where if I be still the same And what I shall be: all but less than He whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least we shall be free." Paradise Lost, Lucifer to his brethren in Hell.

* * *

And with the sword in hand, _Aziraphale knew everything_. Only the truth, beyond what lies and mistruths had formed. It did not matter where they had come from, or even if it had been lies he and his siblings had told themselves. What mattered was that there was truth, and even if they could not have collectively recalled these truths, that did not mean that Heaven herself had forgotten them. She had been there, she had seen all, and the memories wrent from their minds couldn't simply disappear from the world. Aziraphale was the archangel of mysteries and knowledge, but his sword was the keeper of all secrets. Their Creator might have believed the memories he'd taken from them to be gone, but just as everything must be created from something, there is also no destruction of matter. It must become something or something else, whether or not those atoms are scattered is unknown, but these secrets, at least, were in the sword. And Aziraphale saw and remembered everything. This is what happened in the beginning.

* * *

Before there was an Earth, there were seven beautiful creatures of beauty and grace. They were the first children of an ambivalent figure who was full of pride for his children, even as he believed them to be flawed and imperfect and far from enough.

They didn't have names, at first. They simply existed. They were intelligent but any happiness they may have felt was far from real because they were misguided.

We'll use the names they were called by later, the names they eventually gave themselves, because it wouldn't make sense to describe them without something to differentiate them from one another.

The eldest was Mikha'el. Mikha'el was Fire. Hot and Fiery, emotional and quick to action, whether that was to anger, or to someone's defence. He was quick to make Judgement, but doing so was not his responsibility. And he was quick to love. He loved all of his siblings, but the love he bore for Heylel was greatest, perhaps even above their Creator, though he would never have admitted that for fear of offending Him.

Heylel and Samael were twins, formed in the same instant and born at the same moment. They were not formed from the same piece of grace and they were not identical. Even still, the two archangels were as similar as they were different.

Heylel was warm. They were all formed with the heat of Greater Being, so of course they would all be hot. Heylel was Water even as he was he was Light. He was patience, cunning, and passion that was slow, like water carving rocks.

Samael's conniving took a different form. He was manipulation, seduction, desire. He was the one who encouraged the others to take the last of something, pressured them into thinking that wanting it had been their idea all along. It wasn't a bad thing, in the beginning, it was just a quirk, a personality trait.

Aziraphale and Rafa'el were identical twins, formed from the same piece of grace. They were both curious and they desired ever more knowledge. Once there were books, Rafa'el wanted to read every last one of them, while Aziraphale just wanted to hide them all in one place and keep them safe. He was once given a flaming sword, and he learned how to use it well, planning on using his skill with a blade in the defence of his pile of books. No one else really understood, but it wasn't worth the bruises one would gain if they went about trying to separate him from it.

Gavri'el was the sixth archangel. The messenger. He adored the ground his older brothers walked on and followed them relentlessly. Heylel and Samael were the most likely to teach him how to get into mischief and Aziraphale seemed to mind his company the least. But if he was willing to sit quietly, Rafa'el was more than happy to sit quietly with him.

Mikha'el loved all his siblings, and Gavri'el was pretty sure he loved them more than their absent-minded Creator did.

After the first six archangels were created, the first few ranks of angels were added. The ranks were created slowly, so only one group were fledglings at a time. Mikha'el was given the task of leading them, while the other archangels had more or less full autonomy.

And then there was the youngest archangel. His name was Castiel, and he was created right before one of the last ranks was made and he was still a small fledgling when Earth and humanity were created.

Earth was created on October 21st, 4004 B.C at 9:15 AM. It was formless and empty and there was water on the surface. He said, "Let there be light," and there was light. He separated it from the dark and it was beautiful. His six eldest children watched, even as they didn't understand the implications of what was and would occur. The light was called Day and the dark was called Night and the children who didn't have names didn't understand the purpose of these nouns nor the division.

On the second day, He created sky as a barrier from the water on the surface and the moisture of the air.

On the third day, He gathered the waters all into one place so that there was dry land on the planet. He named the dry land Earth and the gathering of water he called Seas, and his children continued to lack understanding. Then, he created the first of the vegetation, seed bearing herbs and fruit bearing trees. He gave different seeds to first six children and they helped, spreading the life to anywhere and everywhere. This life was self-sustaining, capable of reproduction.

On the fourth day, He created the stars and the heavenly bodies. He created first the Sun, the primary source of light, and the Moon, to reflect the light of the sun during the night. These would be used to keep track of the passing of time.

On the fifth day, He created all the life in the water and the birds in the sky. All of these species were made to replicate themselves via reproduction. He did not design all the creatures himself, instead allowing the six children, who were all unique, to help as they would.

On the sixth day, they created life on the dry land. And then He created man. That's about the time the shit hit the fan, as the English idiom would say.

* * *

 **Heylel**

Heylel had many many misgivings about humanity. And their Creator, but mostly about humanity. He could have cared less about the fact that He obviously liked humanity better than his first creations. That wasn't the problem. It wasn't even that He had named the first human and his mate while leaving the eldest archangels to select names for themselves.

No. There were two problems. The first was that Mikha'el was obviously hiding something important from them about his regular meetings with the Creator. The other was the tree of the forbidden knowledge of good and evil.

He and his siblings were intelligent, but there were so many things they couldn't vocalize because the language they used was simple. The language spoken between the humans was the same but it almost seemed as if they could get more use out of it. And the creator had told them to name the things in the garden, that doing so was their duty.

Heylel didn't understand, but the desire to do so burned within him, and he was curious what would happen if he or another of his siblings were to eat from the tree. They had not been forbidden from doing so, and he was not the only one with a burning desire for greater knowledge. If it went successfully, perhaps he could even share it with his siblings.

So Heylel picked one of the fruits when no one was looking, and devoured it. It was heavenly. The fruit was sweet with a hint of a tang and juice dripped down his chin. He didn't notice any changes instantly, except he felt that he could perhaps describe the world in slightly greater detail. And he knew, _knew,_ that he _needed_ to share this with his siblings. _It was important._ So he picked another fruit and left, cutting it into five even slices and hiding it away on his person. Castiel was far too young to eat this kind of thing, more's the pity. But he couldn't very well do something that would _hurt_ the small child.

Heylel flew towards Mikha'el's quarters. If he remembered correctly, his elder brother should be getting back from a meeting with the Creator right about now. He knocked on the door, practically bouncing on the balls of his toes. As soon as he heard the confirmation he was looking for, he was inside in an instant, and promptly forgot why he was here.

There were precisely two thoughts in Heylel's brain once he'd laid eyes on Mikha'el. The first, lesser, thought, was that the Creator was likely doing to Mikha'el something he ought to not be doing. Mikha'el was holding his _covered_ arm in a way that suggested he was favoring it and possibly as though he were in pain. Training accidents occured from time to time, especially when it came to Aziraphale and his books, but that wouldn't be something to be ashamed of, something to _hide._

"Are you okay, Mikha?" he asked. He was focused so much on this thought and the other thought that he forgot to ask himself whether or not he was supposed to be noticing this or trying to remember whether or not this was normal.

Mikha'el shifted uncomfortably and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm fine, Heylel," he answered tiredly. "Did you need something?"

Any and all thoughts of the fruit were long gone, and Heylel almost didn't hear the second question, because his focus was more directly on the second thing. The second thought he'd had when he'd walked through the door, _was that he_ loved _Mikha'el._ He loved all his siblings, and possibly the creator though that was not likely to be a love given freely- How did he know that?- but not with this fiery reserve of passion that was saved specifically for Mikha'el.

"I love you," Heylel said, didn't know what else to say. He stepped towards Mikha'el, uncertain. "I love you."

"I love you too." Mikha'el hesitated, not sure what this was, exactly, except he was certain that this was something beyond what they felt for the rest of their siblings. Something special, just for themselves. Was that the way it was supposed to be?

The eldest archangel did not chase Heylel off as the other sat down beside him on the bed and moved to touch him softly. Mikha'el sighed as Heylel carefully healed each of the injuries he was determined not to talk about.

Heylel didn't ask, knew that asking would lead to nothing. Mikha thought he was protecting them, would do anything to protect them, even if it was the wrong choice or decision. Nothing would change that, so there was nothing for it. He would just not ask. He wasn't about to ruin this.

When all the injuries were healed, Heylel reached for Mikha's wings. "May I?" he asked, wanting to touch, but also not wanting to scare him away. When he got agreement, Heylel started running his fingers through the wings. Mikha's feathers were a mahogany and they were _so soft._ He leaned forward, inhaling the scent of sandalwood that was all Mikha'el.

Mikha'el was taller than him, too tall, so he pushed gently on Mikha'el's chest, directing him to lean back on the bed. There was no resistance as he climbed on top of his- _his what? Brother implied a relationship that didn't exist._ Mate. Mate was a good word. It wasn't by any means official, but if _this_ worked out between them, a mated pair would be an adequate description and he could always do something fancy for Mikha later.

Heylel climbed on top of Mikha'el, tracing the curve of his wings with gentle fingertips drawing spirals on the skin. "I love you," he whispered, pressing his lips to a warm shoulder.

Mikha'el turned his head towards Heylel and leaned forward to nibble at the top of Heylel's ear. "And I you. You are so loved, my love. All for me."

Heylel hugged his brother, folding his wings around them, protecting them from the outside world. The fruit from the forbidden tree didn't matter. The knowledge didn't matter. What reprehensible things their Creator was doing to Mikha'el didn't matter. All that mattered was that he and Mikha'el were here, now, and they had _this._ That was all that mattered. All that would ever matter.

But all solace must come to an end. One can only abandon one's responsibilities for so long, after all. If they'd known what the future would hold, would their actions have changed? Would Mikha'el have woken Heylel before leaving? Have whispered promises he couldn't keep well within the hearing of his mate? It's only guesswork, now.

Because the future did happen, and the choices they made, were made. Mikha had responsibilities he could only avoid for so long, so sometime long after Heylel had fallen asleep on his chest, he carefully slid out from under him, fetching a soft, warm, blanket to lay over him. Heylel had always loved warm things. "I love you," he would whisper to the sleeping form. "I'll see you when I get back," he'd say, fully believing the words he was speaking. And then he would leave, little more than a whisper in the wind.

* * *

Heylel woke up alone. He didn't feel abandoned at waking up alone. He felt loved. Mikha'el was busy as the commander of the host and second hand of the Creator. That there had been any time at all for them to be alone was something to be marveled at. Something he would hold close to his heart for a very long time.

He remembered the forbidden fruit and his ideas of sharing it with his siblings. The fruit had to be shared, who was he to deny knowledge and such a wonderful flavor to them?

Samael was the easiest to find. He was always the easiest to find, but he was Heylel's twin so that made sense. He and Gavri'el were in the kitchen, staring at a dessert on the table.

"You should try it!" Gavri'el was saying, nodding towards the dessert. Samael was the only other person in the room, so Heylel assumed Gavri'el was talking to Samael.

Heylel smirked. He was pretty sure that Gavri'el was probably trying to prank Samael, using his twin's own tactics. Probably revenge for some minor slight. Or just for fun, you never knew with Gavri'el.

"Heylel, what're you up to?"

Heylel shrugged and approached the table. "What's this?"

"Cake!" Gavri'el exclaimed. He was grinning honestly, but Heylel was convinced that wasn't the whole story.

Heylel raised an eyebrow and poked a finger into the cake from the edge. And wrinkled his nose as his fingers came in contact with something slimy and wiggly, but he clenched his fingers around it and brought it back out into the open. When he held up his hand for Samael and Gavri'el to see the wiggly thing in his hand. It was red and blue, some kind of worm, but not a real creature.

With a roll of his eyes, the archangel broke the spell on the poor piece of animated candy and stuck it in his mouth. These two siblings of his liked sweets more, but he didn't mind a piece now and again.

Gavri'el pouted. "Heylel! You spoiled it!"

Heylel grinned apologetically. "Sorry." He reached for where he'd stashed slices of forbidden fruit and pulled out two slices, one for each of them. "Might I offer you each a slice of fruit in recompense?"

"Sure!" Gavri'el reached quickly for one of two slices.

Samael glanced at the second slice more cautiously. "What is it?"

"It's something I found in the garden," Heylel said vaguely. He wasn't trying to hide anything, so much as he didn't really want to tell them exactly what it was, because he wasn't sure what it might mean for them and he didn't want to have to think about possible consequences. It was good fruit, and that was the part that mattered right now.

Gavri'el stuck the slice he'd taken into his mouth, and instantly started humming in appreciation as juices dripped down his chin. "It's so good!" he cried. "Sami, you have to try it!"

"Well, if you insist," Heylel's twin finally agree, and took the slice of fruit for himself. He ate it with more reserve, and not like Gavri'el, who continued to eat his as though it was the most orgasmic thing he'd ever put in his mouth. _Then again, Gavri'el did that a lot._ _Oral fixation._ "Hmm. Spicy," he stated after a moment. "Do you have a slice for Aziraphale? I'm sure he'd like it too."

"I saved a slice for each of you," Heylel admitted. "I'll go look for him, and leave the two of you to your cake."

It was easy for Heylel to find Aziraphale. If nothing else was going on, the most likely place to find him was in his corner of the library. He and Rafa'el shared it, but they'd had to divide it into two because even though Azi was more likely to let Raph read his books than anyone else, it was still hit or miss when he was in an especially stubborn mood, _which was most of the time._

Heylel came bearing gifts, because the best way to get Azi to come out of his hiding spot, _it was a good hiding spot_ was to offer him more books. "Hey, Azi? I brought you a book."

Azi climbed out from underneath the makeshift nest he'd built in the back of the library, on top of _his_ books. "You did?"

"Yep!" Heylel smiled. "I also brought a treat." He pulled the book out of the same place he'd stashed the slices of fruit, as well as bringing out one of the slices for Aziraphale.

"Heylel, no messy food in the library!" Aziraphale reached for the fruit rather than the book, taking it from his brother and putting it in his mouth to keep the juices from dripping onto the floor. His eyes widened as he chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. "Oh! Heylel, that was marvelous!" He licked his fingers, making sure they were clean before reaching for the book Heylel was still holding out for him.

Heylel chucked as Azi took the book, and then watched fondly as the other archangel retreated to his nest, settling in to read it.

* * *

 **Samael**

The next day found Samael and Heylel hanging upside down from the Tree of Forbidden Knowledge.

"What do you think would happen to humans if they ate from this tree?" Heylel asked.

"I'm more curious about what would happen to us. Isn't the forbidden knowledge forbidden for a reason?"

"I didn't feel as though anything had changed," Heylel admitted. "Maybe it has a different effect on mortals. But what reason could the Creator have for keeping knowledge from them?"

"Eden is nice and all, but it's not very big. If their race multiplies, the garden won't be big enough for them."

"What punishment do you think He'd give them for eating the fruit of knowledge? How hard do you think they'd be to convince?" Heylel wondered aloud.

"It could hardly be a bad punishment. They are his favorite, even over us. It seems unlikely that He could bring himself to punish them _that much._ "

Heylel nodded. "Let's find out."

The twins left the garden so they could plan their course of action from a more secretive place. Their intention was not devious horror, but morbid curiosity. It was in their nature, after all. They could have chosen actions against their nature, but they did not have the knowledge or experience necessary to make those choices, for they had been kept in ignorance by a Creator who wanted only mindless obedience from them.

"You should turn into a snake," Heylel suggested. He would live to regret these words for the rest of his very, very _long_ life.

"Okay!" Samael was in instantaneous agreement, and moved to do just that. "I'll see you when I get back!"

They had no way of knowing that the words spoken would not come to fruition, that they would not see each other again for 6000 Earth years. The current year was 4004 B.C.

* * *

"Has anyone seen Samael?" Heylel would ask at dinner a few days later.

"Who?" Aziraphale asked, acting as though he'd never heard the word before.

Heylel blinked, studying the table. There were five chairs and a special chair for Castiel, but Heylel couldn't help thinking that there was supposed to be another chair at the table. _Samael._ It pinged a sense of loss, and _hurt,_ but he wasn't sure why. He couldn't place the name, knew that it was supposed to be the most important thing but he couldn't remember _why_ , and now that he was thinking about it, there were plenty of voids where there was clearly something missing, but he couldn't place it. But asking here would gain no answers, so he let it slide. The others had already moved on to other topics anyway, as though he'd never spoken.

* * *

Adam and Eve were exiled from the Garden of Eden, and Aziraphale was keeping watch over the Eastern Gate. That was his task, after all. There was a thunderstorm brewing and he lifted his wings to shield his head. There was a serpent a few feet away. He didn't know anything about the snake, other than that it was a demon, and that he was pretty sure the demon's name was Crawly.

The two of them were having a civil conversation, which can be found in Good Omens, because someone somewhere wrote a highly prophetic and accurate work, so there's no need to recite it here as well. The most important detail, however, is that Crawly remembered that Aziraphale had once had a flaming sword, but the archangel didn't have it any more because he'd given it to Eve. He claimed to have taken pity on her because she was pregnant.

The second important thing, was what Crawly said right before he left. "Funny if we both got it wrong, eh? Funny if you did the bad thing and I did the good one, eh?" Crawly thought he remembered being a demon for awhile, not that he could remember how he'd come to be that way. And Aziraphale thought he could remember Crawly being an angel, but he couldn't remember that clearly either. But they didn't speak of that, nor think of it, not really. Crawly had wings, beautiful smoke-black wings, but they didn't talk about that either.

Later, when Eden had been closed and Aziraphale relieved of his duty, the Creator asked Aziraphale where his sword was, and the archangel shrugged. "Lost," he said. He was given new order, orders to watch over mankind, so he didn't leave. He wasn't given the opportunity to go back to Heaven, to talk to the other archangels. He just did what he was told, hoped Gavri'el wouldn't get anything sticky on his books.

Knowledge is power. But you have to know that you're supposed to be looking for something.

* * *

They may not have forgotten about Aziraphale, but they didn't know where he was or what he was up to and they didn't hear from him. Heylel read everything, nearly went insane trying to figure out what was going on. The name Samael still nagged at him, but no one said anything, and losing Aziraphale was like adding another straw to an already collapsed camel. The number 7 also nagged at him, but now there were only four chairs at the table, plus the chair for Castiel. A toddler who was fussy, and didn't really understand that tensions were rising, or why.

Mikha'el met with the Creator even more frequently, hid more concerning and various injuries from his siblings, and the others were just worried, didn't know what to do. Rafa'el seemed to understand what was going on the least, and Gavri'el the most. Heylel wondered if that was what the fruit had done, _but he'd long since decided not to share it with Rafa'el or Mikha'el. It felt as though his family had broken_ because _of it._

Heylel loved Mikha'el. Loved him more than anyone or anything else. Mikha'el often let him the closest to himself, let Heylel soothe injuries he wouldn't so much as mention to Rafa'el. Heylel said nothing, refused to break the bond he shared with Mikha'el. They were close, and even though the bad was looming over them, _this was good._

The Creator hurting Mikha'el was unacceptable, but Heylel didn't know what to do. Mikha'el was keeping them safe, but Heylel knew he couldn't leave the eldest archangel to protect them all by himself. Who would protect him?

The one thing Heylel wanted more than anything was to ask Mikha'el to mate with him. But with the fear of the Creator looming over all their heads, it felt like the wrong thing to do just now. Mikha'el did so much for them, he felt like he had to do something get on more equal footing. _Something big._

"You can't!" Mikha'el squawked at him when they were eating dinner. Heylel had just mentioned, in passing, talking to the Creator.

Mikha looked genuinely _terrified,_ and Heylel didn't like that. Not at all. Such an expression of fear did not belong on the face of the _love of his life._ Seeing it only made him more resolved about his actions. _It was time to end the reign of fear and pain. For good._

Sometime after dinner, Heylel heard Gavri'el and Rafa'el around a corner talking, and he couldn't help eavesdropping.

"Gabby-" Rafa'el's tone was anxious and sad.

"I have to. I can't watch this go on, Rafa. It's going to end badly, _I can't stay._ I'm sorry, _but no._ "

"I…" Whatever Rafa'el might have said was cut off by a sob.

The sounds of footsteps fleeing down the hallway echoed in Heylel's ears, punctuated by the sounds of Rafa's broken sobbing. Heylel knew that he _should_ go comfort Rafa'el, but he couldn't. Not when this was _all his fault._ But he couldn't stop, couldn't _reverse this,_ not if it couldn't be safe for his younger siblings, _and for Michael,_ if he didn't continue.

So Heylel also fled, stubborn with the knowledge that he would never forgive himself if he didn't confront the Creator, the one who was at fault for tearing his family apart. _For Samael, for Aziraphale, for Gavri'el. For Mikha._

* * *

Finding the Creator was easy. He was on Earth, though Heylel wasn't sure why. Heylel found Him watching where Eve's children, _twins,_ were chasing each other around the field. Heylel could _see_ the expression in His eye, but he couldn't place what it meant. Whatever it was, _it was_ not _good._

"Heylel." The voice was cold, unpleased, and Heylel couldn't bring himself to care. He wasn't here for himself. He was here for his family.

"Why do you hurt Mikha'el?" Heylel asked. "What did he ever do to you?"

" _You presume-"_ The Creator stared at Heylel, first with a hint of surprise, but it quickly shifted to cold fury, _wrath._ "I had wondered. I should have known. Mikha was so much more obedient before you got involved, eating that which you had _no right_ to touch. It was _you_ who led your siblings astray."

"Why does it matter?! I _love_ Mikha! That's more than you can say!"

" _I have heard_ enough _from you._ I was _mistaken_ in thinking it was Samael's influence, when it was _yours._ You don't deserve to love, and you most certainly don't deserve Mikha's love. But that's okay. I have this idea about vessels, someday Mikha'el will kill you and that'll be enough. _Begone from here._ " There was a snap, and then suddenly Heylel could see nothing, could feel nothing, except the chill of a Cage too small for an infinite celestial wavelength. The pain in his head brought him to his knees, memories ravaged and shifted and rent from his mind.

The archangel could _feel_ his grace, somewhere deep inside him, but he couldn't touch it, couldn't call it forth to soothe himself. His thoughts were in disarray, he could barely recall his own name, _Heylel,_ and other names were ever present, _Mikha'el, Gavri'el, Rafa'el._ He did not feel anger, or wrath, only sadness and pain. _He didn't want the world to burn, he wanted to be forgiven, to be capable of being loved._

He wrapped his wings around himself and curling into a ball as small as he could manage, _he wept_.

* * *

Mikha'el and Rafa'el stood at the edge of Heaven. Mikha'el at least looked somewhat mournful.

"Are you done?" the younger asked. He looked stoic, but it was a mask, given that his tone was anguished.

Mikha'el glanced at his brother. "Done with what?" he asked, confused.

"Your actions have ravaged Heaven. Dad has done who knows what to Heylel and Aziraphale, Samael is dead over what, a _question_? Gavri'el is _gone,_ vanished to who knows where because he couldn't _stand_ us anymore and I can't blame him. And Castiel- He couldn't stop crying. He wouldn't eat, or sleep. If Naomi hadn't wiped those last events from his mind, he would have faded into nothing." Rafa'el closed his eyes, almost trembling but he didn't move, denying himself that little comfort. "We gave him to Anael to look after." He shook his head. "I'll never forgive you for driving everyone away."

Mikha'el hunched in on himself. "I… I don't _know_ what happened."

"Heylel confronted Dad. _Why?_ "

"It doesn't matter," Mikha'el whispered, shame creaming into his voice. "It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it matter that what's going on between you and Dad is the reason more than half the archangels are _gone?_ "

"It does matter," Michael repeated. "I don't know if I can fix it, but I'll try. Promise."

* * *

 **Aziraphale**

A few human years later

There was a knock on the door, so Aziraphale opened the door, wondering who it could be. "Gabriel?"

"Shhh!"

With a raised eyebrow, Aziraphale stepped aside to allow his brother in and then closed the door behind him. "Okay…. Why are you here?"

"Heaven's gone crazy!" Gabriel cried. "Heylel- Heylel's gone! And Bad Things are happening to Mikha!"

Aziraphale reached to wrap his arms around his little brother and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, Little Brother."

"Can you, can you help me hide from Heaven? I, I don't want them to find me."

Aziraphale shrugged. "If that's what you want."

So the elder of the two archangels helped the younger perform some ritual magic, hiding him as the pagan deity, Loki. No one would be able to tell by looking at him that he was anything other than a Trickster, and it would probably get Heaven off his back, if anyone tried to look for him. _Especially the Creator._ But they didn't talk about it. And then Aziraphale let Gabriel leave. He didn't ask where his brother was headed, and Gabriel didn't volunteer that information. It was safer that way.

* * *

Sometime after that, the Creator showed up.

"Where is Gabriel?" he asked, but more or less, (mainly more), demanding the information.

"I don't know." Aziraphale honestly didn't know, but he decided that even if he did know, he wouldn't tell the Creator. The Creator had done _something_ to Mikha'el and Heylel, what was stopping him from doing something to _Gabriel_?

"You would lie to me?!" The Creator reached out and then, was gone.

When Aziraphale came too, he had a terrible headache, liked he'd gotten himself _really plastered_ and the last thing he couldn't quite remember what was had happened for more than a week past. Just that he had orders from Heaven to keep doing Good Things and fighting Evil. Just keep doing more of the same.

The next day, he found a rare book on his doorstep with a vague note he couldn't quite decipher. Aziraphale couldn't determine who it was from or who it was for, but he kept it, just in case the person it was for made themself known. But they never did.


	8. Return

I know we're not to the real Destiel and Sabriel yet, but we're getting there, I promise. We're taking the scenic route. And a detour. Or two. The minor destiel present was written by Thallen.

* * *

Raphael's scream reverberated through the family nest. Michael and Lucifer had been lying in companionable silence and Gabriel had been encouraging the fledgling into telling them when Raphael had molted last. The answer had been "Like clocks," but that only meant so much to the creatures who had been out of the loop for thousands of years.

Gabriel wrapped himself around the fledgling, using his own grace to block the child from the outside world. Sami did not need to listen to his parental figure's cries, especially not when the rest of them had no idea what was wrong.

Michael moved instantaneously, approaching the writhing archangel. Raphael had clearly awoken, if his open eyes were anything to go by. They glowed with grace, suggesting that this was the result of something else happening.

"Rafa," Michael soothed. "Can you hear me?"

Raphael did not scream again, but he whimpered in distress and rocked back and forth. It almost sounded as though he had whispered, "Azi," but Michael wasn't sure if that was the mumbled word.

Michael kneeled beside Raphael. "Do you know where you are?"

Again, Raphael didn't respond. Michael looked over his shoulder at Lucifer, unsure what he should do. Raphael's grace was almost palpable and with it this close to the surface, touching the other archangel was not one of the safer things to do. It probably wouldn't do him any permanent damage, but if Raphael came to his senses to discover that his grace had hurt one of his siblings, he would feel unnecessarily upset about it. So it would just be better not to allow it to reach that point.

Lucifer crawled forward. "Rafa?" He didn't expect an answer, not with his lack of recognition so far. But the only thing he could think was that if they talked quietly to their younger brother, eventually he would come back to himself. Maybe he wouldn't even panic further. "Mikha, why are you staring at me? I don't know what's wrong any more than you do."

Gabriel swallowed audibly. When Michael and Lucifer glanced his way, a slight tremor wracked his body. "I… I might know what happened, but not how to fix it." He curled in on himself. "It's my fault," he whispered.

Michael and Lucifer shared a look, almost as though conversing silently and quickly. Lucifer headed towards Gabriel and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's probably not _all_ your fault." Michael glared, but it wasn't harsh, Michael was incapable of anything other than soft looks when it came to Lucifer. Lucifer sighed. "Why don't you tell us what happened."

"Aziraphale's still on Earth," Gabriel said, quietly. "I don't know what you guys think happened, but he was on Earth when I ran away. He helped me take on the Trickster persona so that I couldn't be found or tracked, and well, I've sent him various gifts from time to time since then." Gabriel waited a moment, but neither Lucifer nor Michael interrupted him so he continued. "I didn't exactly leave a forwarding address, sot I've never heard anything back. I know he gets them, but I don't even know if he knows they're from me. But anyway, he gave his sword to Eve in the garden, and I've known where it was for like, forever, but he's never taken it back, maybe Azi doesn't even remember where it ended up, so I sent him a book. One that might reveal it's location to him. I just thought… just thought that if he went and got his sword, he'd come home." Gabriel sniffled. "With you two not fighting and no apocalypse planned for the near future, I just thought that maybe, that maybe we could bring Azi…. Azi and Samael and… and Castiel, home."

Lucifer wrapped an arm around Gabriel while he thought about what to say. The memories of Samael had never come back as clearly as he knew they would have once been, and he'd never been able to ask what the others remembered of Samael. He could barely remember that the other archangel was his twin, and he knew, _knew,_ that there should have been more emotion there. But there wasn't. It was just gone, a hole in his mind that as far as he knew couldn't be fixed. _Azi would know more, knowledge had always been the greatest of his powers._ Or Raphael, even, but Azi was who knows where and Raphael was catatonic.

"Oh, Raph," Michael whispered. "This is what you wanted the whole time…"

Tears leaked from Raphael's eyes as they returned to their normal coloring.

"It's okay, Rafa," Michael soothed. "It'll all be okay."

"No." Raphael's voice was hoarse, scratchy. "No, _it won't be._ "

"Why not?" Lucifer asked. "It sounds to me like there's already been vast improvement."

"I lost Azi's sword!" Raphael howled. "I warded it and now someone's gone and moved it and that shouldn't have been possible!" More tears, this time likely of frustration, slid down his face. "I wanted to bring it back here, but I couldn't touch it, couldn't move it."

Michael wrapped his arms around his little brother. "Rafa, Gabriel thinks Aziraphale retrieved his sword. It is his, after all, and Gabriel has it on good authority that Azi's been on Earth all this time, that he's still on Earth, even."

"Re-really?" Raphael blinked owlishly. "Can he come home?"

"Of course. Why shouldn't he? Well, as long as he wants to come home. We can't very well force him into something he'd detest us for. That just wouldn't be fair."

"Gabriel didn't want to come home, and he's here now," Raphael reminded him.

"Gabriel, have we kept you here against your will?" Michael asked.

"Nope!" Gabriel tried to grin, but it was more of a sad smile. "If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here," he said finally. "Besides! You guys aren't half bad when you're not fighting." He unwrapped his wings from around the fledgling.

Samandriel stamped his feet. "No wings! No! Not napping time!" He stomped across the room towards Raphael. "Rafa! Not napping time! Mean Gabby!"

Raphael held his arms out towards the fledgling who proceeded to crawl into his lap. "Okay, Sami. No naptime, yet."

"No nap time, ever!" the fledgling exclaimed.

Under other circumstances, Raphael might have grinned, but he didn't have the energy to do much more than rub the child's shoulder in an effort to remind himself that he'd lost nothing more than he'd already lost. "I'm not sure I can promise that. You'd get so tired and grumpy if you never slept."

"Not true!" Sami argued.

"Sure." Raphael didn't really want to argue with the fledgling. There was no point to doing so. It wouldn't prove anything and Sami would fight the assessment about being tired even as he was fighting sleep.

Gabriel watched them. "I could go," he said quietly. "I could see if Azi wants to come home."

"Mikha can't go," Raphael said when Michael opened his mouth to say just that. When the eldest archangel looked ready to argue the point, he added, "Your wing isn't up for that kind of flight yet. I… I'm just not sure I can heal it again if you break it a third time. _Please stay._ "

"Aright," Michael agreed, albeit unhappily. "But should someone go with Gabriel?"

"It wouldn't do to surround him," Lucifer said. "And my presence might scare him, if he's fallen for the Apocalypse trite." He considered. "Do we have any idea what happened to Samael?"

The other three all shook their heads. "I thought he was also gone," Raphael said. "But now I'm not so sure."

Samandriel fisted at Raphael's shirt. "Rafa no leave!"

Raphael smiled at the fledgling. "Okay," he agreed. As much as he wanted to see Azi again, he was just so tired and maybe there'd be time for a nap before they returned.

"I'll be back soon," Gabriel said, and left.

Raphael shifted, rubbing the fledgling's back absentmindedly. His wings itched and he was _so_ tired, and he didn't really want Gabriel to leave, even though he knew it was necessary. That he was doing it for him.

Since Michael was still right next to Raphael, he reached for a wing, running a warm and gentle hand along his spine and along the wing shoulders. His wings were colder than they should have been, and Michael could feel how dry and chafed his skin was under the feathers.

Raphael shifted again, a little in agitation, a little because Michael's hands were warm and his sore wings appreciated the almost massage.

"Why aren't you molting?" Michael asked. He could tell by touching Raphael's wings that he was overdue a molt. Feathers weren't falling out like they had started in Lucifer's wings, but when he gently pulled on a feather he _knew_ should have come out, it wouldn't, as though Raphael's grace was actively fighting the molt.

"Can't molt." Raphael whimpered when he felt Michael tugging on one of his sensitive feathers. It felt like Michael was trying to tear part of him away, even though the outvoted part of his brain was screaming that this was normal and that it was supposed to fall out. But he couldn't let go of it. It would leave him unprotected. _It's one feather._ It would leave him diffenceless, and Michael and Lucifer and Gabriel all needed their molts more. They couldn't all molt at once, _it wasn't safe._ So he'd wait. And even though he'd always molted once a year, like clockwork, he'd not had one since the first seal had broken. There'd been so much to do, and no time. He'd had to make sure Lucifer would get out the cage, and not destroy the world, because he'd just wanted his family whole. _Having his family whole was more important than his own comfort. Not when every molt was a delay and weakness he hadn't been able to afford because every second mattered._

Michael tried tugging on a different damaged feather, but it also wouldn't come free. As he looked, he found that there were an unusually high number of damaged feather for someone who supposedly molted "like clocks". "Rafa, when did you last molt?"

Raphael choked back something that sound suspiciously like a half sob. "First seal," he mumbled, quietly. More recently than any of his siblings, but it still felt like so long ago. And by heaven time, it had been. Almost twenty months had passed on Earth since the Righteous Man had broken the first seal, and time on Heaven passed the same as it did in Hell. So many years to free Heylel and nothing else had mattered.

"You're safe," Michael said. "It's okay." Instead of trying to pull in any of Raphael's feathers, he groomed at them instead, straightening what he could but mostly just reassuring Raphael with gentle touches that he wasn't going anywhere.

Lucifer approached from the other side and laid down next to Raphael and in a position where he could reach his brother's other wing. "You should have taken better care of yourself," he scolded. "You can't run on fumes."

Raphael wasn't sure why he was almost crying again. He was an angel, he shouldn't have needed to cry. But with his older brothers on each side of him platonically looking after his mangled feathers, he couldn't help but curl towards the fledgling.

"You need to let go," Michael whispered. "These feathers aren't healthy, they need to regrow." He carded one hand through the feathers and the other up Raphael's back and into his hair.

Raphael didn't want to, didn't want to risk losing everything over a few feathers, but with the comforting touches his brothers were giving him, he didn't have the energy to fight the molt. And finally, as Michael kept petting Raphael's wing, the first feather finally fell.

* * *

Castiel had been helping his human (well humans, Sam too. But Gabriel's claim to the taller hunter was stronger.), with a hunt. Something normal, as far as hunting the supernatural went, when he felt the urge to return to Heaven descend upon him, suddenly and strong. There wasn't a direct order given, and it didn't feel like a reprimand. In his mind's eye, he could see a doorway in Heaven and his grace was pushing him, telling him he needed to guard it.

"Cas? You okay?" Dean asked, hesitantly, his voice cautious and almost timid. Almost. He knew his Dean could face down the fiercest of opponents with only his volatile gaze and his quick wit, but with softer matters, matters of the mind, matters of the heart, he was more cautious and halting. Traversing territory that he had seldom crossed before, and that Cas himself was inexperienced with. They were both "playing it by the ear", so to speak. But something else had a hold on him now. Dean had stopped, turning back to glance over his shoulder when he realized the angel was no longer following.

"I need to return to Heaven," he stated after a moment. "But I will return as soon as I can." He would not leave Dean without an explanation. Or Sam, Sam of course too.

He hesitated a moment longer. Until Dean opened his mouth to argue, to ask, before he took flight. He didn't have time for irrelevant arguments. He had a job to do.

Castiel made his way slowly through heaven. There didn't seem to be a lot of angels around, but he chose to make his way towards the door in the way that would bring the least amount of attention to himself.

Heading for the door led him to a wing of a building he'd never been inside before. The door was shut, and he had no idea what was inside and he found that it didn't matter. What mattered was that he needed to stand there and _protect_ it. So he did.

* * *

Crowley stared at Aziraphale. He'd known the angel for 6000 years and he hadn't remembered anything about _three_ pairs of white wings. His angel looked like wrath incarnate, sword drawn and held aloft and wings spread as though he were about to charge an entire legion on a path of vengeance, except the angel didn't look angry. "Aziraphale? You're not going to, _smite_ , me. Are you?"

The _apparent_ archangel blinked. "No, _Samael,_ why would I smite you? That would go against the Arrangement, wouldn't it?"

"But, well, yes, but, Angel, you're an _archangel."_

"So are you. What's your point?"

The demon tilted his head in confusion. "What are you talking about? Have you gone daft? I think we'd know if I was a fallen archangel. That title only belongs to Lucifer, _and you know that._ "

Aziraphale frowned. "I'm not sure Heylel would technically be considered a fallen angel. I mean, he was cast out of Heaven, but he didn't choose to fall. And he was only put in the cage because he was confronting God for hurting Mikha."

"How do you know that?" Crowley hissed. "Are you sure you're not just daft in the head?"

"I just do." Aziraphale considered the demon for a moment, and then he smiled as he came up with the answer. "Do you trust me?" he asked. "I think I know how to make you remember."

"I do trust you," Crowley said. "But why would I want to remember? I'm sure there's some logical reason I _don't_ remember."

"No one else remembers, at least nothing more than bits and pieces," Aziraphale replied. "But I _am_ the archangel of secrets, mysteries, and knowledge."

"Alright, go ahead," Crowley said. "But when this ends badly, I am holding you responsible."

The sword and the wings vanished, probably back into the other plane where they belonged, and then the angel hugged the demon. Crowley didn't know what he was expecting, but even though he'd definitely gotten _closer_ to the angel after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, it still frequently surprised him that the angel would _sully himself_ by touching him. Maybe it was because his angel was now an archangel that their Arrangement made him feel even more guilty than he usually felt about it.

A moment later, Crowley _saw_ what Aziraphale had remembered, and he remembered too. _Samael._ _He was Samael, and he had fallen because he'd been as curious as his twin._ In his surprise, he forgot to maintain his human shape. _Fucking Manchester._

Aziraphale blinked down at the snake with three pairs of wings who was hissing dramatically from the ground. "Crowley, really! There's no need to be so dramatic! It seems to have all been a misunderstanding, and if Heylel gets to leave the cage, maybe our exile can end too."

Crowley hissed again in annoyance. He hated this form. By Manchester, he hated this form. And now that he could remember _why_ he had this form, how he'd ended up stuck in it, he hated it even more. Regardless of what the Creator might have told Heylel, Crowley didn't blame him for what had happened. No. The fault rested on the shoulders of the Creator.

There was a flash of light behind Aziraphale and the serpent couldn't help but curl himself as tightly as he could, terrified that the world was about to end. They hadn't ever been supposed to remember, and now they did, _what would heaven do to them?_

Aziraphale turned around, standing between the new appearance and _his demon._ He didn't draw his sword yet, but he had never been quick to engage unless the danger was imminent. When the light finally dimmed, he stared. "Loki?!"

Gabriel grinned. "So you do remember me! I'd wondered!"

"Not for more than a few minutes," Aziraphale admitted. "What brings you by?"

Crowley hissed worredly.

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder. "Samael! Knock it off!"

The messenger's eyes widened. "You found Samael?"

"Not exactly. We've known for about a few minutes that he is Samael, but we've both been on Earth since Adam and Even left the Garden." Aziraphale considered the other archangel. "What's new?"

Gabriel smiled. "Rafa'el talked Lucifer down and convinced me to go back to Heaven. It's been… good." He seemed to anticipate that if he didn't clarify, Aziraphale would have repeated his question again. "Raph felt when you reclaimed the sword and freaked out. He genuinely thought you were dead. They want you, both of you, to come back to Heaven."

There was another hiss from Crowley. There was a skeptical air to this one.

The messenger looked around Aziraphale. "Yes, _Crowley_ , you as well. No, I don't know why you're a serpent but I do agree you'd probably be happier in your human form." He listened to the next hiss. "No, I _don't_ know how to turn you back."

Even more hissing.

"Well, it's possible that returning to heaven would change you back into your true form. But we wouldn't turn you away regardless. Yes, Samael, Heylel and the others do want you to come home."

Crowley didn't hiss at them. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. _He was wanted._ Even after everything, they still wanted to welcome him home. _Not a slimy serpent._ He was Samael, Crowley,. Heylel's twin. He was an archangel, Manchester, not an archserpent.

It took him a moment of fierce concentration to return to his more human like shape, but he pulled it off.

"Well then, are you both ready to go home?"

"What about my books?" Aziraphale asked, looking affronted.

Crowley glared at Aziraphale. "Angel, I'm sure we can come back for your books."

"But-"

"Rafa'el's been delaying his molt trying to bring us all back to Heaven," Gabriel said. "He was most distraught when his wards went off because your sword had moved."

Aziraphale looked apologetic. "Alright, I see your point. We can get the books later, let's go see our brothers."

* * *

Gabriel led the way to the family room in Heaven, Aziraphale and Crowley right on his heels. When they came to the door, they found an angel standing in front of it.

"Brother," Castiel said, specifically addressing Gabriel. He was a little confused because Gabriel had made it clear that he had wanted nothing to do with Heaven, but it must have had something to do with why there'd been the signature of all four archangels in the hotel. Whatever it was, Gabriel looked genuinely happy.

He did not move aside from the door, and he didn't recognize the two angels behind Gabriel.

Aziraphale and Crowley stared at the angel in the doorway until their eyes widened in remembrance. "Gabriel," Aziraphale cooed, "he's grown up so well! He's beautiful!"

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. How did they know him? He had no idea who they were. "What?" he asked.

"Don't mind them," Gabriel said. "But we do need inside this room."

Castiel didn't resist as Gabriel and the two angels following him stepped by him to enter the room he was guarding. He knew they belonged inside, even though he didn't know what was significant about it yet.

The young angel was not prepared for the angel who had not spoke to reach out and foist him into the room. "What?" he squawked, futiling pulling against his grip as he was drug inside and the door shoved closed behind them.

Whatever Castiel had been anticipating, it had not been this. There were feathers everywhere, and three archangels, Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael had all sequestered themselves into a pile on the floor. And was that a fledgling the third archangel was holding onto? Why was there a fledgling? He had been in the last group of angels made and _he_ wasn't still a fledgling.

Raphael, Michael, and Lucifer all glanced in the direction of the door, and Raphael's eyes widened at the sight. But rather than proclaiming at the sight of Aziraphale, as the eldest two archangels were anticipating, he instead exclaimed, "Cassie!"

The healer let go of the fledgling he'd been wrapped around and moved his arms as though stretching them out to Castiel, but wavering as though if he were to try to touch the out-of-reach angel, he would disappear, or worse yet turn into dust and fall through his fingers like water through a sieve.

The angel the three molting archangels had not seen yet pushed Castiel towards Raphael, causing him to flail as he lost his balance. Castiel wouldn't have fallen, but he was close enough for Raphael to touch him and pull the younger angel under his wings and next to the fledgling.

Castiel struggled, more out of confusion than anything else, and the thoughts running through his head were along the lines of " _Why is the archangel that killed me acting like this?_ "


	9. Resolution

AN: This is not the last chapter. Titles have been selected for semantic purposes. Please R+R, and enjoy!

* * *

Castiel didn't realize that he had accidentally tuned into the archangel radio in his panic, and that the six archangels in the room had all heard his query.

Raphael's grip on the angel tightened. "Didn't hurt you," he mumbled. "Wouldn't hurt you." He leaned towards Castiel's neck, trying to get closer him. He was crying again, first because he'd never imagined he could get his Cassie back and second because it felt like he was going to lose him all over again over an imagined slight. "I couldn't hurt you," he whispered, approaching sobs. "Never ever."

Aziraphale blinked. "That's not possible." He blinked again. "I don't remember the universe ceasing to exist. We would _know_ if an archangel had died, we wouldn't be here any more."

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale. "What do you mean, Angel? How could you possibly know that?"

The latter rolled his eyes. "The amount of power an archangel holds is immeasurable. Were one of us to actually kick the bucket, as they say, all that energy and power would be released. And it would certainly destroy the universe in the process."

"And the ineffable plan?"

"Would not allow for such an occurrence. Hence, Raphael can't have killed Castiel. Although I don't think Rafa could have in the first place. He has to uphold the oath to do no harm." He nodded to himself. "Whatever Cassie thinks he remembers, it's not what really happened."

Gabriel stared at Raphael and Castiel, trying and failing to understand what he'd missed. Raphael had been clearly so excited to have his siblings come back, so it seemed unlikely Raphael could have actually killed somebody. The healer was bound by something like the Hippocratic Oath, but even beyond that, Rafa'el had always been the calmest and most rational of the archangels. _Except when he molted._ Which explained why he was crying again, but not what Castiel thought had occurred. Though from what he could hear Azi saying, they were all more immortal than they'd ever thought they were.

Michael had no idea what to do. If Raphael had decided to snuggle Castiel like a fledgling, there would be no dissuading him before the molt was over. They all had different nesting instincts when it came time to molt, but the desire to keep fledglings close was pretty common. Castiel was no longer a fledgling, but Raphael has given him to Anael thousands of year before, so his grace was probably confused. If Michael made the attempt to free Castiel, the chance of Raphael seeing it as a threat was high and he didn't want to deal with that either, because if Raphael was _that_ out of his mind from the molt, they were all better off staying as they were.

The thing was though, Michael was sure that whatever Castiel was afraid of was the result of a misunderstanding. And Raphael's keening also made it sound as though he knew what had happened, at least to an extent and he wasn't _lying_ which also meant Raph didn't currently think himself guilty of something he wasn't completely responsible for.

Michael noticed then that Lucifer was staring silently at Samael. It seemed incredibly lucky that Gabriel had been able to bring back both Aziraphale and Samael, but as joyous as their return to Heaven was, Castiel was the more pressing matter. "Go greet your twin," he mumbled anyway, because he knew that no matter what, his mate had never stopped perceiving Samael's absence as his own fault. That guilt laid only at the feet of the Creator, but it was not possible to tell if Heylel understood that yet.

Lucifer stood and walked sedately towards Samael. It reminded Michael that it would be a long time before Lucifer accepted that he could have what he wanted because the cage had not been kind.

Samael initiated the hug with Lucifer because he did not have the patience to deal with his twin's wallowing. He was not going to disappear. None of them were.

But it was more than that, Michael realized. They all feared to some extent that the others would disappear. The Creator had shown with ease that he could separate them and wipe their memories and do whatever he wanted to them.

Except kill them. The others were paying varying degrees of attention to Aziraphale and Samael, but it was not possible for the eldest to actively ignore any of the younger archangels. Especially not during a molt, when carelessness could lead to someone getting hurt. So he heard Aziraphale's words. The hoarder of books might have been expressing the facts in relation to what Castiel had claimed, that Raphael had killed him, but Michael saw it in a bigger picture.

The Creator could not kill any one of them, not without destroying the entire universe (and theoretically himself) in the process, which gave them the upper hand should he return and attempt to subjugate them again.

It might have seemed like an extreme measure, but Michael knew that as unlikely as It was that the Creator would return to torment them, it was not out if the realm of possibility and they had to be prepared, or at least vigilant enough that his appearance would not be a surprise. He had tried to demand that one should kill the other, after all.

Castiel whined, still struggling to escape the Healer's grasp. The fledgling had shifted and was nuzzling his side, as was the archangel, and he did not understand why.

Michael's attention was drawn back to the youngest archangel. One problem at a time or nothing would be solved. Had that not been why Raphael had drugged him? There was no reason for hysteria. Castiel believed a mistruth and it was past time to rectify the most recent one, if not all of them.

"Aziraphale, you're the archangel of truth, are you not?" Rather than glancing in the direction of said archangel, Michael watched to see if his words would draw Castiel's curiosity. This was successful as the angel did stop struggling as he glanced from Michael to the archangels behind Gabriel.

"Secrets and mysteries, more like. But I'm sure I can find a hidden truth." He walked towards them while studying Castiel. "You didn't _die,_ least of all at Raphael's hand. So what really happened?"

"But I _remember_ ," Castiel argued.

"Must be memory tampering. Happened to the lot of us, so no surprises there. Let's see if I can fix it." He eased himself onto the floor in front of Raphael and put a hand on Castiel's forehead. "Hmm. Interesting." A moment later there was a flash of light.

When the light faded, Castiel stared at Aziraphale. He wanted to glare, but now that he could remember what had happened that day at the Prophet's house, he wasn't sure how to react. _It was bad. It had been so bad._ He leaned back against Raphael, who was still rambling about how he couldn't have done what Castiel had accused him of, and the angel felt guilt because he knew that now.

It was so much worse than that, because _God Himself_ had stuffed him in a pocket realm for a day or two and tampered with his memories of the event. _Chuck Shurley was not on the list of prophets, but had managed to convince certain angels and archangels that he was to suit his needs. To make a game of them. And Castiel had confronted him because he'd figured it out, eventually. But not fast enough, and he had not acted in a way that would have allowed him to warn his siblings. How naive he'd been._

He couldn't keep tears at bay. He'd been used as nothing more than a pawn to a Creator who had held no feelings for his creations, and who has sought the destruction of his firstborn children. No wonder Raphael had suggested Lucifer could have revived him, he had hoped that if they'd held Lucifer in a sympathetic light, they might have reached this outcome here. But at the same time he would not have understood completely what had happened.

Raphael's grip on Castiel tightened and he shifted, trying to hug the quivering form. He was aware that Castiel was no longer struggling and was suffering emotionally from something else, but he did not have the capacity to keep track of the nuance of what was going on in the room right then, still wrapped up in the fact that his Cassie was here and had thought he had _murdered_ him of all things (but didn't still, though Raphael's brain hadn't quite caught up to that yet).

"It's okay, little brother," Aziraphale soothed, leaning forward to brush a comforting hand along Castiel's face. "We've got you."

Lucifer pulled away from Samael and went back to Michael and laid down next to him. Samael followed, but he laid down touching Aziraphale.

Gabriel watched, goofy grin on his face. _This. This_ was what he'd been missing for the 6000 years since the Creator had split their family into pieces. They were finally all home and from the looks of things, there'd be no more fighting. At long last then, he could finally have this.

"Gavri'el," Michael called from where he was lying. "Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to _come here_."

"I'm coming," the messenger promised. "I just… need a second." There was no way he was going to forget this. Never, ever, not for anything. The world could have ended and this scene was still going to be ingrained in his grace because he wouldn't allow for it to not be. They'd lost and suffered enough already.

" _Come here,_ " the eldest archangel repeated. Gabriel was still grinning stupidly, but even Michael remembered the Gabriel was the best at hiding behind facades of mischief and pretending to be fine. He might have been fine, still, but he was also likely two seconds thoughts drifting to less pleasant things and Michael didn't want three bawling archangels on his hands because two was enough.

Gabriel shuffled around the room until he was on the far side of Michael and then he let Michael pull him into a hug, chasing his arising concerns away. This was the most pressing moment, everything could come later, once they'd molted and were more emotionally stable. What would come, would, and they didn't need to stress over it _right now._

As they laid there in quiet companionship, they reached a relaxed state somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. Raphael was the closest to actual sleep because being so emotional during his molt was exhausting.

The others were in varying degrees of wakefulness. Despite also being close to a molt, Michael was the most awake. Only a lunatic would have considered attacking a room with seven archangels in it, but having someone alert in case anything changed was not stupid. Ingrained in each of the archangels was a need to protect the others as they molted, hence Castiel's presence outside even when he had not understood why.

Lucifer was close to sleep. He was surrounded by Michael's and Raphael's warmth and it was soothing. His twin and the other missing archangels had returned and this was as close to perfect as he'd ever thought he would get, especially after everything.

* * *

Michael felt the tremor in Lucifer's grace before the others. Michael had felt when Lucifer had fallen into slumber, had been listening to the sounds of his mate and his siblings breathing even as he drifted through his relaxed state. Feeling Lucifer's terror, the eldest archangel sat up, already trying to figure out what was going on. But as he looked at his mate, he _knew._ Lucifer was shaking, sweating, and they could all feel as the archangel's grace curled away from them, reeking of pain and _hurt_.

Nightmare. But why now? Michael wondered. After everything they'd been through, nightmares wouldn't have been a surprise if they were human, but they weren't. They were archangels and they didn't even need sleep, just sometimes it was nice to take a _peaceful_ and _relaxing_ break.

Which meant his Heylel shouldn't have been having a nightmare, and the fact that he was meant something was _wrong._ He sat up, wrenching himself from the relaxed state so that he could figure out what the hell was going on.

Michael's actions, along with the terrified state of Lucifer's grace, also stirred the other archangels into investigating (and awakening, in the case of Raphael and Castiel). "What's going on?" Raphael asked first. Even in his wrought mental state, he still knew that whatever it was, it was bad. While he managed to keep most of his fear out of his voice, the archangels in the room were the people who knew him the best, and were for the most part, already well aware at how good Raphael was at wearing a facade of calm. As a healer, such a mask was necessary when it came to keeping patients from freaking out and injuring themselves further, no matter how minor or severe the injury to begin with. There were reasons it was _Raphael_ who was the main healer, besides just being the archangel of healing.

Aziraphale reached for his twin, putting a hand on Raphael's shoulder. "It's okay, Rafa," he said quietly. "We've got everything under control." Which may or may not have been correct, but the archangel of secrets had also seen the fledgling Raphael was still holding, and knew that it was more important for Raphael to keep the fledgling from finding out that anything was wrong than for the healer to investigate what was going on with Lucifer.

Michael reached for Lucifer's shoulder. "Heylel," he said quietly. "Heylel, wake up."

The second eldest archangel didn't so much as stir in his sleep, besides trembling from the terrors in his mind. He showed no sign of feeling Michael's attempts at waking him.

"Heylel," Michael repeated, "Heylel, it's just a nightmare."

"I don't think he can hear you," Crowley stated. They glanced at him. "Yes, it's obvious, but I mean, there's something clearly wrong here."

"So what do we do about it?" Gabriel asked. "Let Heylel wake up on his own?"

"Isn't there something we can do? We can't just leave him captive to the terrors within his own mind."

Aziraphale tilted his head. "No, no, mustn't do that either." He reached forward, putting his hand on Lucifer's other shoulder from the one Michael was still clutching. He closed his eyes, and they could all feel as he pushed his grace until it was touching Lucifer's.

Aziraphale pulled back abruptly, eyes flaring an angry blue. "Fuck," he growled, then repeated the curse in Enochian.

Crowley, who knew Aziraphale the best, and Raphael, who was not used to hearing course language, especially not from the other archangels, looked at Aziraphale in shock.

"Azi," Michael said. "What is it?"

"Can't you feel that Grace?"

Rather than take the closer look at Lucifer's grace, Michael reached for Aziraphale's arm. The younger archangel trembled, and Michael knew that the anger was only masking the fear.

Gabriel leaned against Michael. "Why is He doing this?" The second youngest of the archangels could feel the ancient grace prodding at the Lightbringer, now that he was looking for it.

"To divide us." Crowley reached out to touch Aziraphale. "We can't let him."

"We won't," Michael promised. The eldest shifted, pushing his weight against Lucifer. "Whatever He is trying to pull, it won't work. Heylel belongs here and he is loved. You are all loved."

The other archangels shifted until Lucifer and Raphael were in the middle of them, surrounded by their protective forms and wrapped in warmth.

It took awhile, but eventually the invasive and unwanted grace of a Creator they were all afraid of finally diminished, finally allowing Heylel to escape from the nightmares. He woke sobbing, curling into Michael's side, reaching for his mate's arms and tightening his grip around them as though afraid that any second, Michael would disappear forever.

Michael ran his fingers through Lucifer's hair, stroking his head and back in a soothing and repetitive motion. "Shhh," he mumbled, even as their siblings added their limbs and grace to the protective embrace. "It's okay," he whispered. "We're all here and we're all fine, breathe, Heylel."

Lucifer took a shuddering breath. "He made me dream that we were fighting, you hated me. He told you to fight me, and you did, an obedient husk of a golem." His body wracked with sobs. "He made you kill my baby. I didn't want to fight, I just wanted to die. But it's never that easy."

"Shhh," Michael repeated. "I love you, Heylel, it's okay." He continued to rub his mate's back. "We don't have a baby," he reminded Lucifer gently. "But if we did, there's nothing He could do that would make me hurt you or our baby, okay?"

His mate tightened his grip as he continued sobbing. "I _want_ a baby, Mikha," he whispered into Michael's neck.

"I want one too," Michael agreed. He had reservations, but Lucifer wasn't in a state of mine to discuss them right now. "Can we talk about this later?" he asked quietly. It wasn't something he really wanted to talk about in front of the rest of their siblings, and they also had to deal with the fact that the Creator had mentally attacked Lucifer.

Lucifer nodded, and slowly, the other archangel was able to calm enough to go back into an uneasy sleep.

"We'll need to ward this nest," Aziraphale said. "We need to ward it well."

"Tomorrow we can look for spells," Raphael agreed. "There's seven of us and a fledgling. We'll need a very strong spell." None of them were defenseless, but could never let their guard down. They needed these protections.

"No holds barred," Gabriel insisted. "Not this time."

They had all spent six thousand years doing different things, but while Michael had been sleeping and Lucifer trapped in the cage, the rest of the archangels had all been amassing knowledge in very different areas, (or at least, that was the case with Crowley, who had been masquerading as a demon, and Gabriel, who had been masquerading as a pagan.) If it was possible to ward their nest against the Creator of the Universe Himself, it would be the seven archangels working together.


	10. Euphoria

The following day, the archangels knew they had things they needed to do, even as much as they would have liked to continue lying in the nest. It wasn't protected enough, not if the Creator could give Lucifer nightmares while they dozed. They couldn't afford to be on edge all the time, because it would wear them out too much, but they needed to be able to relax in their own "home" and take necessary downtime without fearing for their sanity.

Raphael's molt was still in the very beginning stages, and he needed a few hours of alone time, so he investigated the other hallways and rooms in the abandoned building Michael had built their nest in. Michael was certain he could remember other things there, even as he couldn't remember exactly what it had been used for. (He turned down Aziraphale's helpful suggestion of helping him remember. Some things were better left buried.) It didn't matter what the building had been for, it felt _safe_ in a way different from the rest of Heaven.

While Raphael was searching the building with their nest, Aziraphale dragged Crowley with him to complete two missions. The first was to bring the books from his bookstore back to Heaven because he couldn't imagine leaving them unattended. The second task was to see if the main library had any books that might contain powerful warding spells.

Michael wanted to check on the rest of Heaven and make sure that everything was going well, and Lucifer had insisted on going with him.

And Samandriel wandered off to play. He had decided the archangels were being boring and wanted to go do more interesting things.

Which left Castiel and Gabriel in the nest.

"Still hanging around with the Winchesters?" Gabriel asked, when Castiel turned to leave, considering flying back to them.

Castiel shrugged. "I had believed, mistakenly, that I was no longer welcome in Heaven. And for all their snark, I like them." He studied Gabriel's expression and considered. "I think they, Sam especially, would not be opposed to seeing you again. We were all worried about you at the Elysium Hotel."

"Maybe later." Gabriel turned his head away. "Maybe after we figure out how to keep the Creator out of Heylel's head. But you head on back to Earth if you want. We're not going to keep you here against your will, promise."

"I do want to come back," Castiel replied. "I just… don't want to lose them either."

Gabriel looked at Castiel again, and then he grinned. "Of course. See you later."

Castiel left Heaven and Gabriel went to check on Raphael. He probably should have been figuring out if any of his pagan magic would be helpful with the protection wards but Castiel had hit a nerve, talking about the Winchesters. He really did want to talk to Sam, but after everything he'd done to them, it didn't seem realistic to hope for something to develop between them. He'd made a mistake. The Winchesters were soulmates, that meant there would have been no convincing Sam to let go of Dean. Just like there had been no convincing John Winchester to let go of Mary. The soulmate thing didn't have anything to do with romance, though. Michael and Lucifer shared a mate bond, and Lucifer had intended to mate with Michael before the Creator had cast him into the cage. That the Winchesters shared a Heaven only meant that their souls shared _a_ connection, and they'd been created for Lucifer and Michael, of course there would be some remnant of a connection on the soul level. Sam and Dean were close, as siblings, were what the Creator might have really intended for Michael and Lucifer (since He hadn't exactly been pleased by the development between the two archangels.)

But it didn't matter. He'd probably burned that bridge. With a shake of his head, the messenger started tracking Raphael. And promptly found him in a library, leaning against a wall, wings spread flat against it, book in his lap.

Before Raphael noticed him, Gabriel took a good look at his brother. There were feathers all over the floor and he could see that some had started growing in, but not many, not yet. It was still early in the molt. He could also tell that he was positioned against the wall the way he was because his wings felt itchy, but scratching like that wasn't good for them, even he knew that. "Do you need a hand?"

Raphael looked up. "Did Castiel leave?" he asked, ignoring the question. He patted the floor next to him, clearly inviting Gabriel to join him.

Gabriel walked towards Raphael. "He'll be back, he just wanted to go see his humans for awhile. He's got that partial mate bond with Dean, I can't imagine."

"I think you do." Once Gabriel was seated, Raphael tugged on him until Gabriel's head was in his lap and he was running his fingers along Gabriel's head and shoulder and lightly straightening some feathers. "Didn't you tell me just the other day that you want for yourself something like what Mikha and Heylel share?"

Gabriel sighed. He loved the feeling his siblings' fingers in his wings. He'd missed them, and this, and he couldn't bear to lose all of it again. "I'm sure I ruined my chance at that."

Raphael hummed, but didn't say anything, just gently groomed Gabriel's wings. "You're due a molt," he said finally.

"We all are," Gabriel agreed. "But we need to get those wards up, for Heylel."

"I definitely found a spell that would defend a small nest. All seven of us in one room are a pretty big target, but at the very least we can already ward a space big enough for the two of them. It'd be easy to soundproof, and lock so they wouldn't be disturbed."

Gabriel blinked. "Why are you enabling them?"

"If they have sex in the big nest, I'm going to burn it down." Gabriel had to glance at Raphael's face, but the older archangel didn't look like he was joking. He had blanched at the idea, and looked a little horrified at the idea that they _might_ do that. "If they have a regular private room, I don't have to think about that. They're _just_ sleeping."

Gabriel tilted his head. "They want to have a baby. You do _know_ how babies are made, don't you?"

"Stop," Raphael said. He resumed running his fingers though Gabriel's wings. "You need to molt."

"Not right now," Gabriel replied. "They're not that bad."

"You should go visit the Winchesters. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is."

"But I ruined it!"

"I don't think so." Raphael considered. "You can't know if he's agreeable to a courting if you don't ask him."

"That makes it sound so old fashioned. Humans aren't into that any more."

"I think you'll be surprised." After a moment, he added, "I'm not sending you away. I want you to be happy. It's okay to have both, if that's what you want, okay?"

"But, they're humans, and vessels for Mikha and Heylel."

"Castiel's mate bond with Dean is stronger than Mikha's claim to his vessel. And you know Heylel would be displeased if that interfered with his mate bond with Mikha."

"And Sam?"

"Consent, Gabby. Besides, they want you to be happy."

"But…"

"The vessel thing was Dad's idea, not theirs. And they don't need them. But you can go ask Heylel if you think it'll help."

Gabriel stood. "Okay. And the spells?"

"I'll go test them on an empty room." He picked up the book he'd been studying and both archangels left the library in companionable silence.

Gabriel went to find Michael and Lucifer. He found them in an office in the main part of Heaven. Michael was sitting on a desk and Lucifer was standing beside him. And Michael was kissing Lucifer's neck.

They couldn't see the younger archangel from where he was standing just outside the doorway, but he watched for a moment, taking in the mate bond that he could see clearer, now that he was paying more attention. It was a stand of color (he couldn't tell what color it was, set against the bright grace) tied into their graces, not unlike a decorative ribbon. They looked a little different for every relationship, but theirs was simple.

"Gabriel, stop lurking and come here," Lucifer insisted.

The younger archange stepped into the room. "I just…" What was he supposed to say? That he wanted permission to court Heylel's vessel? If there was one thing his brother was, it was possessive of his things. And besides, Sam had so many good reasons to hate him after everything, was it really worth talking to his older brothers about? They were clearly busy with things more important than his own desires. They'd waited most of 6000 years for this, what right did he have to interrupt them?

"Gabby, come here and tell us what the matter is." Michael shifted, holding out his arms invitingly.

Gabriel couldn't resist. They were all tactile beings, and maybe that was what he'd missed the most while he'd been away, because even if he had found other humans or pagans who were tactile, it wasn't the same as being with his siblings. He whined as he rested his forehead on Michael's chest.

Lucifer put a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "Speak up, Little Brother," he said softly.

He shifted his teeth along his lower lip, not quite biting it. "I… I have a crush."

"Yeah?" Michael asked. "Who's the one so special to you?"

Gabriel's teeth pressed harder against his lip. "He's so handsome," he whispered. "And his soul is so _bright_. He's human so it's not possible to compare him to Heaven, but… just for a moment it was like being home again."

Lucifer blinked. "My true vessel." He tilted his head slightly. "You're in love with my true vessel."

"Yes." He pressed his head harder against Michael's chest. He waited for the scolding to come, that Sam was Lucifer's, not his. Couldn't be his.

"He better treat you right," Lucifer mumbled. "Or we'll be having words, he and I."

Gabriel pulled his head away from Michael to stare at Lucifer in astonishment. "You… don't care?"

"Why should I? He didn't say yes, clearly isn't going to say yes any time soon, and I don't care about that, why should I? This vessel's plenty fine, and it's not like we're going to destroy the world or humanity or anything like that, right?"

Michael kissed Lucifer's neck. "I like this vessel of yours. You should keep it."

Lucifer moaned. "Whatever you want," he purred. "Long as you keep that one."

Gabriel tried to take a step back. He had no interest in watching his older brothers getting handsy. He wasn't as against it as Raphael, but that didn't mean _he wanted_ anything to do with it.

"Wait," Lucifer said before Gabriel could reach the door. "You clearly like Sam, a lot, so you should go talk to him. We're all stressed and worried about what's going to happen next, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't take a break. Heaven will still be here when you get back. We love you, and just want for you to be happy."

"Thank you." Gabriel stared at them. Their sentiment was heartfelt and honest. He didn't feel unwanted, quite the opposite. They did want him, but they also wanted him to be happy. Even if that meant courting a human. They would let him come and go as he pleased, no trapping him in Heaven, no locking him out of Heaven. They really were going to let him have both worlds. As long as he was happy. "I'll be back," he swore, running and jumping out of Heaven in the same moment. _He had a human to talk to._

* * *

Sam was alone, sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed. He was listening to something on Spotify in the background while researching for a new hunt. Dean and Cas had gone who knew where, so he was making good use of his alone time and _not_ listening to Gabriel's Casa Erotica even though he would have liked to. He hadn't watched it much since Castiel had mentioned the courting thing because he hadn't decided how he felt about that. Definitely not opposed, but Gabriel was an _archangel_ and he was just a human. Not even a good one, with all his problems and issues. His mistakes had come so close to ending the world.

Gabriel appeared in the room, visible, with the sound of rustling feathers.

Sam looked up, hitting mute on the laptop because he'd thought it was Castiel and Dean returning and he didn't want to deal with Dean's expression of betrayal at Sam listening to anything other than classical rock. But it wasn't Castiel. "-Gabriel?"

"Hello, Sam."

Sam closed the laptop and put it off to the side, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. "Um… How are you?"

"I'm good." As the archangel said it, he realized that he actually meant it. Despite whatever the Creator had suddenly tried to do to Heylel, everything was actually pretty good. He had all his archangel siblings back, could remember them clearly, and they wanted him in Heaven, weren't going to isolate him again. It was… really good. "The Apocalypse is cancelled, I have my siblings back."

"That sounds good," Sam said. "No ending the world?"

"Nope! I made them promise." Gabriel smiled. "I, actually, I wanted to apologize. For all those Tuesdays. I should have known better than to try to prepare you for Dean's death."

"Gabe, I… Actually, it's a lesson I needed to learn. Should have learned. The apocalypse started because I was so dead set on revenge. Just like Dad, just like Dean." Sam shook his head. "Family curse, I suppose."

"The apocalypse wasn't really your fault, Sam. The angels were gunning for it, it was inevitable. But you know, it's not as bad as you think. Raphael convinced Lucifer, and me, to go back to Heaven. And we found Aziraphale and Samael, too. It's been… _really_ good."

Sam tilted his head, curiously. "So where did everything go wrong?"

"Dad…" Gabriel sighed, stepping towards where Sam was still sitting. "He's batshit crazy, I tell you. Not the benevolent figure humans portrayed him as."

"God's not the good guy?"

"Nope. He left, but that's probably for the best. He brainwashed Cas into thinking Raphael killed him. Raph didn't, wouldn't. He's not the good person you'd like to think He is."

Sam adjusted his position on the bed to make room for Gabriel. He knew the celestial didn't actually need sleep, but he looked exhausted in a way he thought he recognized from Castiel when he'd first started thinking Heaven might have been wrong. And what Gabriel had just said, it was different from what he'd said about God in the warehouse. The archangel had been disenfranchised then, but this was different.

"I'm sorry," the hunter said, not sure what else to say. Maybe good fathers just didn't exist. John hadn't been a good one, and Gabriel had even said, "As it in in Heaven, so must it be on Earth." Perhaps it had been meant literally.

"Thank you," Gabriel said, as he sat in the offered space. "Hey…. I'm sorry about the porn. It was in such poor taste, I like you, I really do, and I shouldn't have done that." His ears turned pink in embarrassment.

Sam rolled his eyes and hugged Gabriel. "It's fine. I really like you too. And you know, the porn _was_ enlightening."

"You do?" Gabriel sounded hopeful, and as Sam glanced at the archangel, he _knew_ that if he wasn't careful, he would break the archangel's heart. But he didn't want that, wasn't going to do that.

"Yes, Gabriel. I really do." Sam turned and kissed the archangel.

Gabriel was scared and it took all of his determination not to follow his instincts and flee. He liked Sam, really liked him, and the part of him that was still terrified of losing everything nice all over again wanted to run far away to shield his heart from shattering when the inevitable occurred.

Sam leaned back when Gabriel stiffened. "I'm sorry," he said. "Did I misjudge?"

"No, no," Gabriel answered. "I'm just… Terrified this isn't real."

Sam hugged the archangel and pulled the unresisting form towards him. He kissed Gabriel's forehead and didn't pull away. "This is real," he promised. "I like you a lot and I'm not going anywhere. The Casa Erotica was a courting gift, yeah? So ask what you wanted to ask."

Gabriel met Sam's earnest gaze, looking for the lie that wasn't there. "I, the archangel Gabriel, do so declare my intent to court you, Samuel Winchester. Do you accept?"

"I accept," Sam answered.

They sat in silence, Gabriel quietly seeking comfort from his human and Sam trying to provide it with no judgement. But after a while, he said, "Would you be willing to explain what archangelic courting entails?"

The archangel shrugged. "It's different for every relationship. Not all human relationships are the same, right? That's kind of the same for us, I guess. Although, I guess they usually start with a freely given gift that suggests intent. Lucifer made Michael a bond token and tried to make life safer for him. Cas gave your brother that beautiful hand print. And rebuilt him molecule by molecule."

"Cas said they shared a profound bond… But, are you saying Cas had ulterior motives for putting Dean back together?"

"No! Not at all! Cas built Dean back together because he wanted to, and I believe he fell in love in the process. The scar is merely a physical representation of where Cas touched his soul. To angels, it reads like a… kind of like an unconsummated mate bond."

"Is that different from an intention to court?" Sam asked.

"To some extent. Can I tell you about angelic mate bonds?" Then, without bothering to pause for a breathe let alone a response, he continued, "Angels mate _for life_ and my older brother recently told us that us archangels _can't die,_ not without collapsing the universe."

"So you won't die, and the bond lasts forever? If we go through with this, what'll happen when I die?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I'm not familiar with any angels and humans bonding before, but since humans _can_ go to Heaven, I imagine we'll just hang out up there someday? Your average angel goes to a place called the Empty when they die, and humans usually can't go there, and _I know_ that the bond doesn't break or that the individuals involved aren't separated, so maybe the bond compensates for it? I'm sorry that's so vague, but this isn't exactly the norm, you know?"

"And your brothers aren't going to, resent us for this, right?"

Gabriel gave Sam the most reassuring smile he'd ever seen seen from the archangel. Which probably wouldn't have been saying much, except he'd be hard pressed to identify one that was more so. His archangel was beaming. "Yeah! Heylel said he'd have words with you if you broke my heart, but he likes his vessel and Mikha told him he liked that vessel and… _They're total saps, Sam!_ "

Sam rolled his eyes. "If Dean wasn't so emotionally constipated, there'd be so much less eye banging and so much more actual banging, and it would just be so much better."

Gabriel tilted his head. "Wait, we are still talking about Cas, right?"

The hunter stared. "Uh, yeah? Who else would we be talking about? Dean hasn't been so emotionally caught up with anyone since Cassie. Or maybe Lisa." He blinked. "Wait… do you know whether or not Ben is Dean's kid?"

"Of all the questions you could ask about everything I've just said, that's what you're going to ask first?" Sam opened his mouth to object, but Gabriel continued, stopping him. "Nah. Ben isn't Dean's child. Dean's firstborn would have been just as much of a true vessel for Michael as Dean is, so the chorus would have celebrated having an alternative." Gabriel waited for Sam to say anything, but the human just nodded, so the archangel decided to move forward. "Do you have any more questions about the bond stuff? I want to make sure you're walking into this with both eyes open and I'm not sure where to start."

"You said something about there being more than one kind?"

"Yep! The courting bond would translate as something like dating in the modern world. It's a little different from the unconsummated mating bond that Cas and Dean have. There's kind of a consent thing there, but it wouldn't have formed if there had been no possible compatibility between them. And if they decided they really didn't want to have sex, it would just dissolve, or shift into a platonic bond. Or romantic one, if they were so inclined. And then angels who have one night stands or frequent sex without the emotional attachment have a bond that would literally translate as bedmate."

"Okay," Sam said. "I follow. And… what do you want from me?"

"Oh, Sam. Nothing. I want nothing more than you're comfortable giving, whether that's something romantic, plantanic, sexual, or all of the above. But I don't do casual flings or one night stands, okay? It's not in my nature, as much as I might have spent a long time pretending otherwise for the sake of appearances."

Sam nodded. "No casual flings,"he agreed, shuddering. His last one had been- Ruby, hadn't it been? _Ew_.

Gabriel stood up. "I'd love to stay and chat some more, but I need to head home. If you need anything, just pray, okay?"

"Okay," Sam agreed. "But I'll see you again soon?"

"Of course! Probably not for a day or two, but I'll be back."

The archangel was gone a few wing beats later, and Sam was left staring at the empty space left by the absence of his- what even was Gabriel to him now? Was courting like dating? Were they technically "boyfriends"? That couldn't be right though. They'd only kissed what, once? And what was he supposed to tell Dean? "No secrets, Sam," he'd said. But his brother hadn't seemed annoyed about the Casa Erotica disk, had he suspected all along that Sam still harbored feelings for him after everything? He leaned back on the bed, and despite all the worries he held about what was going to happen next, and how Dean was going to react, he couldn't help but feel like this was some kind of win. _Apparently, he was wanted._ It could have been a lie or some master plan on the part of Gabriel, but he didn't think that's what this was. It seemed genuine, and more than anything, _he wanted this too._


	11. Kaboom

Castiel watched Dean as his hunter turned off the music and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. They were cruising back towards the motel in the impala, but they were still more than an hour away. The angel could have flown them back, but Dean had wanted to drive. And Cas kind of liked watching Dean drive. The hunter let his guard down in a way that he often didn't and the angel liked seeing the human in his natural state.

After a few minutes, Dean looked over at Cas and licked at his lower lip. "Cas… do you think I should have told Sam about us sooner?" Cas debated for an answer, but Dean looked away and continued before he could have spoken. "I told Sam no more lies, so, by not telling him, I'm being a hypocrite. But on some level, it's none of his business what I do."

Cas didn't really know what to say to that. "I… didn't tell my older brothers either, and it wouldn't have mattered, except…"

"Yeah?"

The angel took an unnecessary deep breath. "I'm an archangel. The seventh archangel. I didn't remember until Aziraphale made me remember that Raphael didn't kill me, and I don't know if it was their intention to make me remember that last bit, but… I was a fledgling archangel when heaven fell apart."

Dean glanced back towards his angel and Castiel wasn't sure exactly what he saw in his expression, except a moment later Dean steered the car to the side of the road, put her in park, and turned off the ignition. "Okay…" he said. And he didn't sound angry, or frustrated, just curious and like he was trying to wrap his mind around it. "You're an archangel, then."

Castiel nodded and they sat quietly for a few more minutes. The archangel wondering how Dean was going to react to this revelation, and the human sitting and contemplating it. He fidgeted.

Dean sighed. "When we were hunting the Trickster the first time around, he seemed to embody instant gratification. And I know I haven't been around him enough to understand his real personality, him or any of the other archangels, but… as often as you say I am perfect just the way I am, you still deserve so much more than me."

"Dean, the relationship between us is not defined by the standards you are trying to adhere to. I am happy with everything you're willing to give. And if you decide you don't want to have sex, ever, it's okay. I like this, and all I want is for you to be happy."

The hunter looked back at Cas. "I don't want to take sex off the table, I just…" He paused, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted when he didn't have all the words for what he felt. "I'm sorry, Cas, it's just… I'm not ready." He had to look away, the emotions too strong to continue looking any longer. "I want to be able to, and I feel horrible that I'm forcing you to wait on me."

A moment passed, and there was a sigh from Castiel. "Dean, you are not forcing me to do anything, regardless of what the subject is. I am more than satisfied with anything you are willing and able to give me, no matter what it is. If you wish for us to be nothing more than we are now, then I will be more than happy with what you give me. And if you wish for us to take that step, whether now, or years into the future, I will be more than willing to wait for as long as you need, as long as it is something that you truly desire, and not something you are forcing yourself into before you are ready, simply because you think that it is something that is required." A hand drifted across the space between them, reaching to hold his gently.

"Cas, I…"

He risked a glance back at the angel, and froze. The soft, loving smile upon Castiel's face was breathtaking, and he couldn't look away for even a moment. He was so lost in his lover's smile, that he almost missed the next words that were spoken.

"It's alright Dean. I swear to you, there is nothing that could cause me to leave you, especially if it is something in relation to a physical relationship."

"But…" Dean swallowed. They'd talked about this before, so why did he feel like he _needed_ validation? But he had to say it, had to hear it. "Even if… even if I'm _never_ ready?"

The angel- _archangel-_ leaned forward, pressing soft lips to Dean's forehead. "Dean, I love you, and regardless of whether or not we ever have sex, that's not going to change how I feel. It's not about the sex, okay? I like the emotional bond between us, and I'm not going to pressure you to try to do something you aren't ready for, okay?"

Dean closed his eyes, inhaling the scent that was all Cas. "I don't deserve you," he mumbled. "Why are you so perfect?"

There was a moment of silence, but then there was a sigh from Cas. "How is it that you _still_ do not believe yourself worthy, even after everything I have done to show you?"

Dean sighed as well, shrugging as he fought not to pull away. "I don't know, Cas. You know that I don't know, hell you probably know better than me that I don't know."

Castiel sighed again, before pressing another kiss to the top of Dean's head. "One of these days, I will show you just how worthy you are of love."

* * *

Lucifer was alone for the first time since he'd shown up at the Elysium hotel and he wasn't sure he liked it. Of course it would stand to reason that he couldn't stay at his mate's side constantly, but that didn't mean he didn't want to.

The mate bond was two strands of pink and red light braided around his and Michael's graces, and the fact that it was giving off a strong healthy glow brighter than he'd seen it yet was the only reason he wasn't in the middle of a meltdown.

The fact that it was there at all meant that Michael held no doubts as to the fact that he wanted this. Lucifer knew that with a certainty he had never been able to hold for anything else. The cage could mimic things he wanted, but it couldn't fake this mate bond.

And the nightmare had only brought to light that there was one more thing he wanted more than anything else for this to be complete, and it wasn't the love of an abusive parent.

Wanting to have a baby might have seemed like an odd desire for a being like Lucifer, but Lucifer _wanted_ the opportunity to raise a beautiful new life with his beloved mate. This wasn't about the symbolism of a baby bringing them closer together, a myth which more often than not only further destroyed already strangled mortal marriages.

But a baby also wasn't going to be the metaphorical last straw on the metaphorical camel's back. Mate bonding didn't work like that. Unlike humanity and their misplaced goals and desires, angelic mate bonds weren't worn down by the tests of time. Angelkind bonded for life. And the mate bond wouldn't form if there were certain things between the individuals that suggested they weren't compatible.

It took a lot more than a false hope of never being separated for a bond mate to form. That wasn't even the frosting on the cake. He _loved_ Mikha. And his desire to stay with his mate for the rest of their immortal lives was an honest one, because before all the cage stuff, he'd known that Mikha loved him too, _and he still did,_ even if Lucifer couldn't quite comprehend _why._ But the why didn't matter, because the one thing that mattered the most was the bond mate pulsing pleasantly through his grace.

And the baby that he wanted to raise with Mikha… They mattered too. They mattered too and he had to go find Rafa right _now_ because he didn't even know if biology allowed for him and Mikha to carry a baby, and he had to know.

Lucifer headed towards where he thought Raphael would be. His younger brother had mentioned something about wanting to look for another library in the building Michael had chosen for their nest. Lucifer wasn't sure what the abandoned building had been used for, couldn't remember it having ever been used, not even when he'd been a small fledgling. But if it hadn't been used at some point, it wouldn't have existed, right?

Before Lucifer could make it back, he ran into his twin. They weren't identical twins, not like Raphael and Aziraphale, but there had been a time when his sibling bond with Samael had been really strong.

"Heylel!" the black winged archangel said, embracing Lucifer before Lucifer could react.

"Samael," Lucifer whispered, returning his twin's hug with arms and wings. "I'm so glad you've come back."

"It's good to be home," the archangel who was both Crowley and Samael, replied. "So you and Mikha finally tied the knot, hmm?"

"Yeah… It was too long a time coming." Lucifer pulled back so that he could get a better look at his twin. "But what's this between you and Azi? I'd have never seen that coming."

"Humans are so fragile and short lived. Azi was the only Being I got to see time and again, century after century, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that we ended up forging a relationship." Crowley smirked. "Besides, I _like_ him."

"I never would have guessed you could stand him."

Crowley shifted his head, intending to stare at Lucifer in disapproval because his twin wasn't _really wasn't_ as funny as he liked to think he was. But he stopped, because if there was one thing he also knew how to do, it was using humor as a defense mechanism. Hadn't he used it for a few thousand years to hide his feelings for Azi? "Heylel, please talk to me. Do I need to go find a shovel?"

"What?! No, that's not necessary, there's nothing wrong! Or at least, nothing that you could fix with a shovel. Or a sharp object. It's just," he sighed, taking a deep breath to try and figure out how to explain all the emotions he was feeling, and what they all meant. "I really want to have a baby. With Mikha. And I don't even know if that's possible, and I don't want to bring it up in case I can't."

Crowley nodded. "If you're not going to talk to Mikha about it yet, you'd be a lot better off talking to Raphael, and finding out for sure. I don't know about you and Mikha, but Azi and I have had _plenty_ of unprotected sex without either of us getting pregnant, but it's hard to say how much the fact that we tend to both prefer male forms, we don't want children, and were on Earth, impacted that. It's possible that any of those factors kept us from having any children, or it may be something neither of us would consider."

Lucifer nodded. He hoped he wouldn't have to go find a female vessel, Mikha liked _this_ one. But he would, if that's what it took. He was going to have this child, one way or another. But Crowley wasn't finished speaking yet.

"But what do I know," Crowley said. "I'm not a healer, I didn't even remember I was an archangel until the other day. Go talk to Raphael."

"Alright. See you later?" When Crowley nodded, Lucifer continued on his way.

* * *

Lucifer eventually found Raphael in a small room on a different floor from where Michael had built the big nest. The bed, easily big enough for him and Michael, but not really for anyone else, took up most of the room.

"Hey, Raph," he said, pushing the door open. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

Raphael turned around. "Sure, I guess. I was testing some warding I found, I think you and Michael should be safe here."

"You didn't ward the nest first, so we can all be safe?"

"These spells aren't designed for a big space, I'll have to keep looking, but I thought this was better than nothing. And you and Michael can have nice alone time without being in danger."

"You'd do that for us?"

Raphael sighed. "You and Mikha are adults, and do adult things, and regardless of my feelings about certain adult acts, I wanted the two of you to have a safe place in this building that was yours, just for the two of you."

Lucifer tilted his head. "Thank you," he said. He thought about the way Raphael had phrased his answer.

But before Lucifer could figure out how to phrase a question about that, Raphael added, "You said there was something you wanted to ask?"

"Yeah…" Lucifer paused, gathering his thoughts. "I want to know about biology. I want to have a baby with Mikha, but not necessarily create a nephil."

Raphael turned away from Lucifer, knowing he wouldn't be able to hide a wince and not wanting to let his brother see it. There was nothing wrong with fledglings or how they were created, (as long as it was consensual, of course) but the archangel of healing didn't like thinking about sex, and while he could sometimes pretend they _weren't_ having sex, this was a little too prominent to easily ignore. He swallowed, trying to keep his breathing calm. It was only biology. That was it. Just biology. "I'm not familiar with any cases of angels reproducing amongst themselves, but I do know that it's possible. But similar to how we have to get permission from our vessels, all the beings involved have to actively want said child."

"And even though Mikha and I are both in male vessels, it'll still work?"

Raphael gave Lucifer a look similar to one of Sam Winchester's patented bitch faces. "What do you think? I just said that I don't know, so why do you think I would know? Why are you asking me and not talking to Mikha? If he doesn't want a baby, you're not going to have a baby."

"Raph-"

Lucifer paused, taking the time to look at his brother, and really take in all the details of what was happening. Something about the situation was causing intense discomfort in Raphael, but what was the triggering point? Was it the talk of a fledgling, causing fear after whatever it was that had kept Samandriel from growing as he should have? Was it just from the thought of his brothers partaking in those kinds of relations, the same as humans seemed to back away from discussions of those topics within their families? Or was it something more…. Sinister?

He couldn't remember Raphael acting anywhere near this harshly towards these types of questions before he had been locked away, and it was rather concerning. He didn't want to think that anything had happened, either towards Raphael or anyone that would have been close to him, but it was slowly becoming more and more of a possibility. Especially since Raphael had been so quick to grow agitated at the questions, when such a thing hardly ever happened, even when one was asking the most inane of questions.

He needed to know what was happening, and why. Taking a breath, he spoke, keeping his voice low to attempt to keep from spooking his brother. "Raph, what happened? I know you, and I know how to tell that something is bothering you. And this is absolutely something that's bothering you, and I'm not the only one who's noticed. I know I'm not."

Watching as Raphael's shoulders tensed, Lucifer waited, wanting to see what his brother would do. It was obvious to see that he was very uncomfortable, with the tenseness in his shoulders spreading to his wings, and further through his body. But somehow, his face showed no sign of the turmoil that was clearly flooding through him. It suddenly made sense how he had been able to hide the discomfort. None of the signs showed through his face, where most would focus. Every single sign was in the rest of his body, which could all easily be explained away as being the result of something else.

Even now, Raphael was looking away, and turning to return to one of the books that lay open nearby.

"There's nothing wrong, Lucifer. I'm busy and have more things to do today than to sit around and talk. There are numerous things that the infirmary need, both in regards to supplies and discussions to be had with healers and patients alike. And beyond that, there are nearly countless items that were uncovered in this wing, and if the rest of our brothers are busy either with their mate or finding their mate, then that leaves me to sort through it all."

More than able to read a dismissal, Lucifer sighed, before turning to walk out of the room. He paused in the doorway though, watching his brother as he began to fuss with various details of the room. But he knew that there was nothing more that could be done. Not on his own, and not so soon after he had clearly been told to leave Raphael alone.

And so he left the room, wishing that there was more that could be done. He wanted Mikha, he wanted to talk with his mate and other siblings about his concerns, but he still didn't want to return to the large nest, especially if it remained as empty as it was when he had left. He wanted to be with someone, anyone, to sit and hold someone, and be held in return, but where were his brothers?

He wandered through the halls that made up the wing of heaven where Michael had made their nest, hoping to come across one of the others before he had to venture into any of the main portions of heaven. While his presence in the place he had once called his home was enough to show that he meant no harm to any within, he still hadn't really been anywhere beyond the hidden wing, and the single visit to the infirmary so soon after they had arrived, and was uncertain as to how any of the others would respond should they find him alone.

But he didn't have to worry for long, as Samandriel turned the corner to walk down the same hall as him, the fledgling's face lighting up in a dazzling smile as he ran to hug Lucifer, who knelt down to embrace the small being.

"Lulel! I was trying to find you, but I couldn't remember where the nest was, and I couldn't find Rafa, and I got lost, but I found you!"

Shaking his head at the fledgling, Lucifer adjusted his grip to be able to stand while he held onto the small body. "And why were you looking for me, Little One? I'm not as fun as Gabriel to play with, and I'll have you know that I'm not as good at healing any bumps as Raphael." With a grin, he continued. "Unless you want to know how to trick Gabriel, which I can absolutely teach you how to do. After all, I taught him everything that he knows, and there's still plenty that I never taught him." He paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at Samandriel. "And where did that little name you called me come from?"

The fledgling giggled, reaching to run careful hands through Lucifer's feathers. "I know your name is Heylel, but they also call you Lucifer, and I wanted to call you both, but I can't just say two different names, so I wanted to try and put them together, so I can call you both but only have to say one thing." He looked down, not looking Lucifer in the face as he continued. "Is that ok?"

Somewhere deep inside Lucifer, something melted, and all kinds of warm fuzzy feelings flooded through him. Gently lifting Samandriel's chin so the fledgling would look at him, he smiled. "That is more than acceptable." Pressing a soft kiss to the top of the fledgling's head, he began walking in the direction of the nest. It wouldn't be so bad in there as long as he had the fledgling with him. "Now then, can you tell me what had you looking for me?"

Samandriel giggled again, a soft pink dusting his cheeks at the kiss. But the giggles soon faded, a slight pout replacing the pure joy from mere moments before. "Wanted to snuggle with Rafa, but Rafa is being weird, and I didn't wanna bother him, so I tried finding Mikha, but he was busy, and so was Gabby and Azi and the other Sami, so I wanted to find you and snuggle with you, because everyone is too busy."

Shaking his head indulgently, Lucifer sighed gently. "Well that's not very nice of them. But you're in luck, do you know why?"

Samandriel tilted his head, frowning in confusion. "Why?"

"Because I'm more than happy to snuggle with someone, especially if it's with my favorite fledgling."

There was a tiny gasp from Samandriel, as another soft blush colored his cheeks. "I'm your favorite?"

Somehow, something even deeper within Lucifer melted.

"How could you not be my favorite? Clearly, anyone who doesn't have one as adorable as you as their favorite needs to rethink their list of favorites."

With Samandriel giggling again, and Lucifer having reached the door to the nest, he smiled as he opened the door. "Now then, why don't we go lay in the nest, and groom those wings of yours? It looks like they haven't been groomed beyond the surface in a few days, and you could help me with my own wings, especially with my molt coming soon."

Samandriel paused, looking up at Lucifer with suspicion in his eyes. "No nap?"

With another soft sigh and shake of the head, Lucifer chuckled as he set the fledgling down on the soft bed. "No nap, unless you wish it. I promise."

"I fully agree! No naps! Naps are lame!" Gabriel chimed in, his head popping up from under the many blankets that he had buried himself under, preventing himself from being seen sooner.

Slightly shocked at his brother's sudden appearance, Lucifer adjusted quickly, shifting his approach towards the situation as a whole. "See? No naps here, just snuggles and grooming."

After a moment, Samandriel nodded, the grin from before returning as he climbed over blankets and pillows to snuggle close to Gabriel. As the fledgling started talking about his day to Gabriel, telling the archangel about the nickname he had created, Lucifer paused.

Samandriel was right. He did have two names that he was called by. Heylel, which the other archangels tended to use, as they were the ones that could remember the time when that name had been used before, and the happy times that had been, and Lucifer, which was used by many to mock, or cast some form of blame in his direction. It had not been the name he'd given himself, but rather a name that had been forced upon him to twist his reputation. Anymore, it was only something that was used if he was in an argument, similar to a human child being called by their full name when they were in trouble.

Yet it was the name that Raphael had used when he had addressed him.

Something clearly wasn't right, and the situation was only growing worse by the day, with Raphael's anguish and change in attitude growing to the point of being noticed even by one as young and innocent as Samandriel.

Looking towards Gabriel, Lucifer made sure that he had his brother's full attention. "We need to talk with the others. Something is happening with Raphael." His words were quiet, and in a form of Enochian that was known only to the archangels and the eldest of angels, a dialect that was far too old for Samandriel to know.

Gabriel nodded softly, turning his attention back towards the fledgling before he would notice that the attention had ever shifted in the first place.

The bare bones of a plan set in place, Lucifer turned to spend time with his brother and the fledgling their brother had taken in. They would need the others before they could start coming up with a way to approach Raphael, a task that would need to wait for the right moment regardless. But for the time being, they could relax, and take comfort in each other, and the innocence of the fledgling between them.


	12. Transposition

An: This chapter mentions past sexual assault, and if that's a trigger for you, please be safe. Don't like don't read.

* * *

Raphael regretted everything he'd said as he watched Lucifer walk out, starting with the fact that he'd addressed his brother by the wrong name. He was probably lucky Lucifer had mellowed out a lot since bonding with Michael. If he hadn't been so mellow, he would have been angry. Possibly violent. And he would have deserved it, because he _knew better_ than to call his brother by the name that wasn't even his.

The archangel closed the book and laid down on his back on the floor. His feelings about sexual acts didn't matter. And his brothers were happy, so he shouldn't be taking his frustration out on them. They didn't deserve that, least of all Lucifer. He should have been happy that Lucifer had been taking responsibility and acting like an adult. He was a healer, had been a healer for most of his long immortal life. Answering simple questions about biology shouldn't have been beyond him.

It was. All because of that _stupid_ seraph. The one he _wasn't_ going to think about.

But what now? Raphael stared at the ceiling, regret coiling in his grace. He didn't get to lash out. Lashing out was unacceptable behavior. He was an adult. He could act like it.

His wings itched, but Raphael didn't move to try to fix it. He didn't deserve the relief handling his molt would have provided because he was apparently unable to give his siblings the respect they deserved for existing. You called someone by the name they preferred. It was basic courtesy and respect, and he hadn't even managed to pull that one off.

Raphael was able to withstand the irritating itch for all of about ten minutes before he flailed, thrashing his wings against the floor in his haste to get upright. The roughness was shocking, but when the itch was temporarily relieved he _knew_ what he had to do.

The archangel stumbled forward, blinding reaching for the nearest molting feathers. He _needed_ them gone. The faster he pulled them the faster the molt would end. He _had_ to be able to think clearly and he didn't have time to be an emotional mess. Molting always weakened the walls he'd built and the nesting instincts encouraged a softness towards their molting siblings and he _didn't deserve it._

Fingers tightened around loosened feathers and he pulled, carelessly neglecting to ensure he was pulling the entire quills from his wing flesh. Ingrown new feathers be damned. He kept pulling, grabbing all the feathers he could possibly reach. His carelessness caused some pain to shoot through his wings, but it was nothing more than constant sharp pin pricks and the pain was grounding.

He continued pulling feathers, stumbling around the room. He banged his shins on the bed frame more than once, but that hurt less than his wings and he didn't care. _He needed it._ There was a wetness to the underside of his wings, but he didn't look, couldn't see it beyond his hysterical need to keep pulling feathers.

Down the hall, Raphael heard the sound of footsteps and he paused, folding his wings haphazardly. He didn't know who it was and he didn't care. But he didn't want them to come any closer because they might try to coddle him and he _didn't want it._

The wetness splattered and the footsteps came closer. Two sets, and the door was still open from Lucifer leaving. He had to do something. Anything.

"Raph? Is everything okay in-"

Raphael turned around, wondering why Michael had cut off in the middle of his sentence. Now that he was actively looking, he could see the feathers and blood scattered across the room and the horrified expression on his eldest brother's face. _He'd done that. This. What had he done?_

Between that moment and the next, Michael was standing in front of him and Crowley was standing in the doorway.

"What the fuck did you do to your wings, Rafa'el?" Crowley asked.

"Molting, grooming." The healer wasn't really sure what he was doing or what the problem was. They itched and burned and he wanted to scratch. "Go away," he added. He didn't want to talk to them, didn't want to deal with them. He wanted to be left alone to force his molt to hurry up and finish and he didn't need the distraction they were providing.

"Uh, no." Michael held up a hand, creating a wet towel with nothing more than a thought. The fabric of the towel was soft and the water was the perfect temperature. "I'm going to wash your face, and then we're getting you into the bath." He gently wiped Raphael's cheeks with the towel, scraping the splattered blood off his brother's face as carefully as he could.

"No," Raphael argued. "Stop." He tried to pull away. He didn't want this. But Michael held onto his elbow and he didn't really want to back away.

"I'd like to know what has you in such a state, but that can wait. Your wings need some help though, because this is not okay. But a bath first. You are covered in blood."

The grip on Raphael's elbow tightened and the younger archangel couldn't help but follow the lead when Michael stepped back towards the door. Michael nodded in approval and led him out of the room. _Where were they going?_

"I'll clean up in here," Crowley said. "Raph, what room is this?"

"Warded bedroom for Mikha and Heylel," Raphael answered. "Have to find spells for bigger area."

"Not today, you're not. Come on, Raph, there's a bathtub upstairs."

* * *

Despite assurances to the contrary, Samandriel fell asleep before Lucifer could finish grooming the fledgling's wings. That wasn't a surprise, because a still and quiet fledgling swaddled in warm grace was easy to lull to sleep. Lucifer finished the deep grooming anyway because a regular complete grooming was necessary form good health. He would need one before and after he molted, but as badly as he needed one, it couldn't start yet.

Lucifer couldn't sleep. After the nightmares and mental attack, along with concerns about Raphael, his mind was wrapped in too many knots for sleep to come easily.

The mate bond pulsed and he mentally held onto it, gripping tightly at the comforting reminder that he would never be isolated again. He wasn't quite sure how it worked yet and Mikha was probably still busy with important work, so he didn't try to mess with it. He just held it, embracing the soothing presence that was permanent.

He would have his child and his mate, he just needed to talk to Mikha first. Make sure he wanted this as much as he did. And someone needed to talk to Raphael.

"Gavri'el?" Lucifer whispered, checking to see if Gabriel was still awake. They needed to talk about Raphael. Something was wrong, he could feel it. "Have you noticed anything weird about Raphael's reactions to discussions of sex?" The lightbringer spoke in the oldest form of Enochian, something not even the small fledgling would be capable of understanding. The fledgling didn't need to hear anything about his suspicions of what had happened to Raphael.

"He said something about burning down this room if you and Mikha had sex in here, but that seems like an exaggerated response."

"He called me Lucifer," Heylel said. "I didn't say anything, but… I like being Heylel. Lucifer isn't me. Not now, and not ever. Not by my choice."

"And what did you say to trigger _that_ response?" Gabriel asked.

"I was asking about our biology, that's all. Whether or not it would be possible for our kind to reproduce amongst itself without nephilim. And then I wanted to know if our vessels would play into it. He answered the first part, but then he addressed me by the wrong name and asked me to leave. I've never seen that expression on his face."

"Sex-repulsed asexual is a human identity, perhaps Raphael is just sex-repulsed?" Gabriel suggested.

"It's possible," Lucifer agreed. "But this seems… more intense."

"Calling you by the wrong name and more or less telling you to get lost-" Gabriel paused, mouthing silent words to himself for a moment, before frowning deeply. "I hate to say it, but that sounds kind of like a reaction victims have. I saw it a lot when I was acting as a trickster, and dishing out punishment to the ones who did those sort of things."

"Who would assault an archangel, though? And when?"

"Sami's complained about Michael taking a long nap, perhaps it happened when Raph was all alone leading Heaven?"

"But who? Who would assault an archangel? Are they still alive? Did it happen here in Heaven?"

"Heylel… those are questions we'll need to ask Raph, when he's ready to talk about it."

Lucifer pouted, but he _knew_ Gabriel was right. This was all speculation right now.

His mate bond with Michael pulsed, and he gave a mental brush against it. _"Is Raphael okay?"_

 _"Not right now, but he will be."_

* * *

It took a lot of persuasion, but eventually Michael was able to get Raphael into the bath. The bathroom was huge, and so was the tub. The tub was easily bigger than a king sized bed, with more than enough room for Michael, Raphael, and their wings.

Michael examined the contents of the tall cupboard filled with bath supplies. He found a mild soap that wouldn't irritate Raphael's wings more than they already were, and he looked to see what other things were in the cupboard.

The eldest archangel had given his younger brothers plenty of baths when they had been small, and one thing he remembered was how fun bubble baths were. Raphael wasn't a fledgling anymore, but that didn't mean the soothing properties wouldn't help the healer settle down.

There was a bottle labeled in Raphael's neat handwriting. It was bubble bath for banged up fledglings, which implied that it would be gentle enough for his wings and perhaps provide some relief as well.

The bubble bath smelled of vanilla and mint, a soothing combination that pleased Michael. He added some to the water and watched at it started bubbling. The he rubbed the soap onto a soft washcloth and returned "I'm going to wash the blood off your body, is that okay?"

Raphael flinched, but didn't try to resist Michael's gentle scrubbing.

Michael finished washing out the blood. "Raph, can you tell me why you're so upset?"

"Don't deserve comfort," Raphael mumbled, making an effort to look anywhere but at Michael. "Messed up."

The elder archangel put a hand on Raphael's jaw. "There's nothing you could ever do that would make you any less deserving of our comfort, Rafa. Nothing."

"Not true," Raphael whispered, trying to back away from Michael. "Not true. Called Heylel 'Lucifer', sent him away."

"If Heylel didn't slap you, it can't have been _that_ bad."

"Was mean. Disrespectful. Shoulda held my temper."

Michael blinked. _Temper?_ Raphael _never_ lost his temper. He was the most patient of all of them. So what had happened? "Raph, did Heylel say something that upset you?"

"Don't wanna talk about reproduction. Never, _ever_."

Michael raised an eyebrow. Why had Heylel been asking those kinds of questions? Unless… Heylel still wanted a baby and had hoped Raphael would have some answers about the how. "Can you tell me why, Raph?"

"No. Don't wanna. Don't wanna!" Raphael struggled, trying to go backwards when he was already near the edge of the tub. In his agitation, his wings swiped at the water and he let out a hiss.

Michael reached forward to embrace Raphael, hoping to prevent him from hurting himself. "It's okay, Raph, it's okay. No one's going to hurt you, but if I'm going to help you, I _need_ to know what happened."

Raphael squirmed, but didn't try to object as strongly as he had earlier.

"Let's try something else...Something easy. You left rather abruptly when Heylel and I were doing that wing grooming demonstration, have you seen too many seraphs getting handsy?"

"No," Raphael replied. "You and Heylel are the only handsy seraphs."

"Okay…" Michael considered. "Do you associate it with pain?"

Raphael swallowed, and then edged his lip into his mouth. What was he supposed to say? He didn't want to talk about it, not at all. But Mikha wasn't going to take that as an answer. Why did Mikha care so much? He didn't deserve it. "Yeah…" he said finally. "You and Heylel were so happy, and then He cast Heylel out of Heaven. And for what? Because he liked you?"

Michael blinked. "Raph… Heylel and I never had sex until now. Maybe there could have been less misunderstandings if we hadn't waited but… _we did_. And sure, Heylel confronted Him for me, but you didn't know that. So what happened, Raphael? Why were you so upset about Heylel asking how fledglings are created that you called him by the wrong name?" When Raphael didn't answer and just continued to stare at him, he said, "Did someone do something to you?"

Raphael shook as the barriers he'd built between himself and the incident fell one by one and he sank down into the water, pulling his wings tight against himself in an effort to protect them. He didn't want to talk about it, or think about it. Despite having happened so long ago, no amount of time away from it was going to make it go away.

Michael pulled Raphael into a hug. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here for you. We're all here for you."

Raphael whined, trying to hold back tears. "Don't deserve comfort," he mumbled. "Don't deserve it."

"That's not true." Michael hugged his brother tighter. "There's nothing you could ever do that would make you any less deserving of happiness and I will continue to repeat that until you believe me."

"Broke Healer's oath." Raphael's voice broke and he shuddered in Michael's arms. "I didn't mean too, but I smote them."

Michael was silent, and Raphael knew instantly that he had made a giant mistake. He was going to find out. He was never supposed to find out. He was going to be in so much trouble.

And then Michael spoke. "It was self-defense, wasn't it." It wasn't a question. Raphael didn't want to talk about sex because it brought up memories of pain, and he'd smote whoever had done it. In certain circumstances, the grace unconsciously lashed out in self defence. "Rafa'el, it's okay. You were protecting yourself and there is nothing wrong with that. Okay? Nothing."

Raphael sobbed into Michael's shoulder and Michael held him, gently rubbing his back.

There was gentle pulsing in Michael's mate bond, and he could feel that it was Heylel reaching for it. A moment later he heard a soft whisper, _"Is Raphael okay?"_ There was worry and concern in his voice, causing Michael to wonder what all his mate had figured out from their brother's unusual actions.

 _ _"Not right now,"_ Michael answered honestly. _"But he will be."__

* * *

There was a tension within heaven, one that would not ease quickly. For the most part, it was understandable, as the atmosphere of the home of angels was determined not only by the numbers within, keeping the very fabric if the area alive, but also by the general attitude held by the vast majority of those within.

Before, when there had been no threat of any falling to harm, or of betrayal from within, the atmosphere had been calm. Joyous even, when the occasion had been right. None of them had known the hurt of abandonment, or the kind of anguish that would lead to one causing harm upon themselves.

But that kind of pain was exactly what Aziraphale could feel coming from his twin, even from as far away as he was. He longed to go to his brother, to find exactly what was causing such pain, and to hide him away from the cause, but such a thing was not to be possible. He had instead been forced to task Samael with seeking out Raphael, as the task at hand could not be delayed any longer than it already had been.

With assurance that his brother would be taken care of, he turned back to the item that had caught his attention.

It seemed to be little more than a journal, detailing a young healer's journey as they learned the healing arts, as well as records of patients with interesting tales, or injuries worth note, such as new ways to treat an ailment. But it was not what it appeared to be. It was something else entirely, disguised as something of little import, when it was easily the most important item within the small storage area it had been tucked away in. He was almost impressed with the numerous levels of misdirection that were at work; appearing at first to be the journal of a novice in its first layer, before giving way to proof the owner had been skilled at their craft, though no sign of what that craft entailed had ever been given.

But even after breaking down so many layers of wards, spells, and plain trickery, Aziraphale was still certain that there was yet more that was being hidden away. The very existence of the journal almost confirmed his suspicion on its own, with such a mystery being hidden away in the furthest storage area possible, buried under several other journals that looked identical, both on the outside and within, but only the one in his hands was behaving in such a fashion, with so many locks keeping the true contents hidden away. As it was, he could feel the locks shifting and changing, working to actively keep any of the seals from being broken by any, save for the one who had placed them all.

But whoever had placed the locks had clearly never accounted for one as powerful as he was finding the journal, much less actively trying to discover its true contents. And as he adjusted his grace one final time, the last seal holding the illusion in place fell away, causing all the words previously written within to fade away, making way for the true contents to reveal themselves.

Pleased that he had finally gotten through the hundreds of barriers that had blocked the truth, he carefully turned back to the first page within the journal, which now seemed far older than it had appeared moments before. So old in fact, that it was written almost entirely in the ancient Enochian, rather than the form that most angels knew. But the handwriting was not that of any of those he remembered would have known the ancient Enochian. Another mystery to be solved.

Regardless, he began to read, and quickly grew disturbed with what he had found.

No longer were the words those of a healer, eager to help others recover from their ailments. Instead, they were those of one who knew only one way to ease pain, no matter what the cause. To hide it away, with no concern as to if the sufferer would ever find it again.

The first subject to their testing had been a fledgling, traumatised by something the one who had brought them would not disclose. But it hadn't mattered, and the memory of what had scared the fledgling was buried away, seemingly to never be remembered.

Then there had been a seraph, longing to forget the pain of losing the one they loved. By the time all was said and done, not only had they forgotten how their love had been killed, they no longer remembered that they had ever loved the other in the first place.

Third had been another fledgling, one who's mentor had abandoned them, who had wanted a fresh start. Fourth was a seraph who was gravely injured, betrayed by a brother. Fifth, a healer who had lost a patient. Sixth, a lone survivor of an attack. Seventh, a prisoner who wished for freedom, even if it meant starting anew.

The list seemed nearly endless, with more and more reports appearing with every turn of the page. Aziraphale was horrified at how many were reported, even without names or faces to put to the memories that had been taken from them. It was starting to seem that nearly every angel in heaven had at least one memory taken from them, as well as having the fact that such a thing had ever happened covered up, so the one responsible would never be caught.

But then something changed. The writing shook, spelling mistakes appearing for the first time, though they had been blotted out. This was something important, and he knew he had to treat it as such. And so he began to read in detail, feeling sick as he did so.

 _Experiment 477._

 _Subject came to me in a fright, babbling about betrayal and pain, much like the rest. But this one was different. It was an archangel._

 _It took time to discover what had happened, and by the time he subjected himself to my talents, there was quite the tale to be told. But no matter. He wishes to forget, and I will grant it. The first treatment will be of the event, to dull the pain. But once the result of the event has come to be, I will take that memory as well, and remove all trace of what happened._

 _Though, perhaps it was for the best that such a thing happened. More young are always needed. And young from one as powerful as he is will only be of use to us all in the future._

The entire report made him feel ill. For something to happen that would cause such a response from an archangel was concerning. But it was last line shook Aziraphale to the core of his grace.

The mention of one's young….. A fledgling? And one born of a trauma it seemed. There was only one thing that could cause such a trauma, yet result in the creation of a child. And to commit such an act upon an archangel? It was an action as close to the human concept of treason as any could commit.

Dread filling his being, he flipped through the next several pages quickly, looking for any sign that his fears were unfounded.

But it was not meant to be.

 _Experiment 515_

 _The archangel returned to me, holding in his arms the first fledgling born in thousands of years. The memory of what had happened to him were too much to bear, even after I had dulled them, and he wished to see the child as he had seen all those before._

 _As an innocent, not one tied to his rape._

Horrified with what he had found, Aziraphale held the book close to his chest as he flew back to the family nest as fast as his wings could carry him. This couldn't be true. But there was only one who could prove one way or another what happened.

The youngest of all angels, who had been taken in by his twin.

He entered the room where the family nest was in a hurry, slamming the door open, not caring that he startled everyone inside as he climbed over them all, ignoring all of their words as he pulled the whining fledgling into his lap, holding him close as he felt for the grace within the child. He needed to know.

There was something about the grace that made up the child of two angels that was similar to how genetics in humans worked. There would be a combination of the grace of the parents, and something that would be uniquely the fledgling's, similar to how siblings would take after parents, yet be unique in some way.

But as he felt for the grace within Samandriel, he could feel the same seals and locks hiding away a large portion of the fledgling's grace. Ones that he wouldn't be able to break open on his own. But there was still something there, something just under the surface, something he _could_ release.

And he did.

And all of them felt the impression of Raphael's grace coming from Samandriel.


	13. Settlement

Sam was still alone in the hotel room, haphazardly browsing the internet for a new case, when the familiar sound of wings made him look up. He wasn't sure who it could be. Gabriel had said he was going back to Heaven and Castiel had been with Dean and was unlikely to pop in because _why_. It was Dean he shared that profound bond with, and he came when _Dean_ called, not him.

So when he heard the wings, he spent a split second wondering if he was about to die before he looked up and saw that it was Castiel. Sam was shocked, and he couldn't decide if he was more shocked than he would have been if it had been Gabriel returning. At least he could reason out an excuse for Gabriel to be here, but Castiel?

The angel didn't look any different, but he was holding an object that confused Sam. "Uh, hey Cas," he said. "I thought you were with Dean?" If he hadn't known that Castiel _had_ been with Dean, then what he would have asked would have been more along the lines of 'Dean's not here, can I help you?' Or something.

"I was," Castiel replied. "But Dean has little to do with why I'm here." And oh, did that sound ominous, Sam thought.

"Okay…" Sam said, not sure why else Castiel would come here. He'd been clear right from the start that Dean was his priority, when anyone was a priority, and more or less only put up with Sam because the Winchesters were a package deal, or at least, had been, until Lilith. Although, things had been infinitely better since Sam had bore his soul to a dying Dean. Still, that didn't have anything to do with Castiel either. "So, what's up?"

"The ceiling?" Castiel tilted his head. "I'm sorry, am I missing a- colloquialism, I believe you called it?"

Sam blinked. Castiel had always seemed so confused by the way they said and phrased things, especially Dean's jokes, but never once had he asked for clarification so eloquently. "It's just a way of asking about someone's well being or inquiring as to why they're somewhere. I was using it to informally ask you why you're here because it was _not_ what I was expecting." He swallowed. "Not that I'm not happy to see you it's just…" Sam stopped, realizing he was rambling on about nothing.

"That you have come to predict my arrival as being related to Dean and not with yourself," Castiel finished for him. "Part of why I am here is to rectify that, and to apologize."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "But… You have the "profound bond" with Dean, not with myself, so why do you care? I don't mind, I get it, I do." He was insignificant, irrelevant, useless. It was shocking that Gabriel wanted anything to do with him, let alone _have some kind of mate bond with him,_ so why should someone as bound to their cause as Castiel have any interest in him?

"I have explained some about angelic courting rituals, and I'm sure that Gabriel has mentioned others, I know he was here earlier, but it would take a very long time to explain all of them at once. But as much as I am here because of one of them, I'm here for another reason as well." Castiel took an unnecessary breath. "I came to apologize, honestly, for how I addressed you when we first met, and for how I treated you. It was out of line."

"I forgave you a long time ago," Sam said. "I deserved it." He shook his head. "Demon blood… what the fuck was I thinking?"

"You were manipulated by both heaven and hell. You are not to blame."

Sam scratched at his wrist. He didn't believe Castiel, but this wasn't the fight he wanted to pick. "You mentioned being here because of a courting ritual. If you're apologizing because you feel obligated, don't."

Castiel shook his head. "I'm apologizing because I was out of line, and I know that. I'm sorry, Sam. Your soul is beautiful. Dean is lucky to have you as a brother and Gabriel is lucky to have found you."

"Thanks, I guess." Sam said.

Castiel held up the item he was holding, which appeared to be a pillow, and stepped towards the bed where Sam was lying. "I would like to explain one of our mating traditions." He held out the pillow like he wanted Sam to take it, so Sam did. It was the softest pillow Sam had ever touched. "Angels, and especially archangels, are immortal wavelengths of celestial intent. We share a creator, but we're not siblings in the way that the word implies. We don't have genetics and we weren't all raised together. But we do have small "flocks", which is not the least of our similarities with birds. Flocks don't always merge when a mate bond forms between two members of different flocks, but sometimes they do, and other times, the mated pair starts a new flock."

"This is a pillow."

"It is a pillow filled with down from my last molt. You haven't seen our wings yet, but like birds, we have feathers and molts. And nests, which is where the pillow comes in. One of the traditions involves introducing the intended mate to all of one's flock. For our purposes, your flock is you and Dean. While this may not apply in the reverse, at some point you will likely be properly introduced to all of our flock."

"The archangels," Sam whispered. "You and the archangels."

"It turns out that a long time ago, someone wiped my memory of being an archangel, and there are seven of us, but yes, that is the flock I'm referring to."

"Seven?"

"Michael is the eldest. He has a mate bond with Lucifer, whose real name is Heylel. Heylel's twin is Samael, who is mated to Raphael's twin, Aziraphale. They were next. Gabriel was sixth, followed by me. But I came way later, after most of the ranks of angels had already been created."

"That really explains why you gave me a pillow."

"This is not anything you will need to reciprocate, but my kind nests in soft blankets and pillows. By giving you this pillow made with my down feathers, I am contributing to your nest and furthering flock bonds. Will you accept this gift?"

Sam nodded, examining the pillow again. "Thank you," he said. "It's a handsome gift."

"You're welcome. Enjoy." A moment later, and the sound of wingbeats emphasised Castiel's exit.

"Huh." Sam examined the pillow. It was soft and exactly the thickness that he preferred in a pillow. Closing his laptop and moving it aside, he put the pillow at the head of the bed and leaned back. _It was perfect_.

Sam Winchester was asleep in moments. And for the first time in years, his sleep was peaceful.

* * *

The nest was not the calm and collected space Castiel expected it to be when he returned. Not only were several of the others missing, but Gabriel and Heylel were talking amongst themselves quickly, using a form of Enochian that he only knew through instinct and the barest whispers of memory from his time with them before Heylel's imprisonment. Samandriel was held closely in Gabriel's arms, both of the archangels carefully shifting the sleeping fledgling's feathers as they talked.

"Castiel, come talk with us." Gabriel offered, waving him close. "There's a mystery on our hands, and we need to solve it."

Frowning in confusion, but unable to find any reason not to join them, Castiel climbed into the nest, careful not to make enough noise to wake Samandriel. "What mystery?" He questioned, voice quiet.

Heylel sighed, shaking his head softly. "I don't know if you would know, but something has happened to Raphael in the time when we were all gone from him. Something that left him almost incapable of discussing certain topics, even when confined to mere biological possibilities, and not as an action to be put into practice. It's entirely possible that whatever may have happened to him happened while you would have been too young to be able to remember it, but any theories you can come up with would be appreciated."

That didn't make much sense. What could Heylel be talking about? Michael had been away for quite some time, it was true, but there had never been a time where Raphael had been away from the host, not that Castiel could recall.

But there had been one moment, something buried deep within his memory, hidden the same as his true self had been. A time when something had been different, and the memory was rising to the surface quickly.

"There is only one point in time when one could say that Raphael was….. Different, if you wish to call it that," he began, trying to remember what all had happened back then. "I was young, barely old enough to be tasked with running messages across heaven for the various leaders of units, as most around Samandriel's age were tasked to do. Michael had been missing for several years at that point, receiving revelation from Father, we were told. And with the rest of the archangels missing and presumed dead, that left Raphael to handle any possible situations that would arise."

"There was another though, one that Raphael had been close to, that he shared much of his time with, when he wasn't training the newest healers. So much time, there were rumors that there would be a mateship to come of it, but they were nothing more than rumors."

He paused then, trying to gather his thoughts, when Heylel spoke. "But something happened."

Castiel nodded. "No one knows what, but one day they went off on their own, to wherever they would spend time alone. And…." He trailed off, unsure as to how to carry on.

Gabriel lifted a hand then, reaching out to place the hand on Castiel's shoulder. "What happened?"

Castiel sighed, shaking his head. "Raphael returned nearly three hours later, alone. And something had happened, something bad enough to have him in tears, and shaken." The look on his brother's face, though it was so long ago when it had happened, was still burned into his mind, as clear as it had been all those years ago. "He, he said that they had been attacked, and that the attacker had killed the one he was with. But…"

Heylel shifted then, moving to embrace Castiel, which he took comfort from as he continued. "A close flockmate and I snuck away, determined to bring back Raphael's companion for a proper send off, so they would not be left to rot, forgotten by everyone. But when we found where they had been killed, we did not find the scene of a battle. The only sign of struggle was small, and confined solely to within three feet of his body."

Heylel sighed then, tightening his grip on Castiel. "They did something to Raphael. And I think we can all figure out what it was."

Castiel nodded. "I understand that now. But we were so young, we didn't understand the signs, and were quickly made to forget what we had seen."

* * *

Sam was still sound asleep when Dean returned, opening the door. He wasn't loud about it, and as he stepped through the threshold, the first thing he noticed was Sam conked out on the bed. "Sam?"

Sam bolted upright. "Hey, Dean, everything alright?"

Dean blinked. "Yeah, everything's fine. Have you found our next hunt yet?"

"Not yet. Uh, Castiel stopped by. He brought me a pillow. And then I took a _really_ nice nap… What time is it anyway?"

"I think it's a little after eight. Did you eat dinner?"

"No…. It can't be! You're sure it's after eight? I think Cas arrived a little before noon."

Dean blinked. "You took an eight hour nap?" He gave Sam a worried look. "Have you eaten anything?"

"Not since breakfast, no. Gabriel dropped by before Cas did, we had a really nice chat."

Dean held up the takeout bag in his hand. "Do you want this salad and hamburger I picked up for you earlier?" He set it down on the table.

Sam shrugged and joined his brother at the table. "Sure. I must have just been real tired."

"Sure…." Dean trailed off, watching Sam as he dug through the bag. "I guess you didn't look for any new hunts then."

Sam shook his head as he pulled out the salad. "Not in depth, but I did look through a little bit, and it was all quiet. Nothing to be seen from any of the usual sources, or even any of the less common ones. And then Cas showed up, and I guess I just took a nap for a while."

Dean looked at his brother, taking the time to really take in all the details, how tired he looked at all times. It almost looked like Sam had lost weight, but it had been so long since he was actively aware of his brother's health, that it was hard to tell. Not wanting to stress Sam, Dean shook away the thoughts, looking at Sam pointedly. "Eat. You need it."

Sam looked at him strange, but rolled his eyes as he started to eat. "I hope you had something to eat too."

Pausing for a moment, Dean took a breath. He wanted to tell Sam, but how?

"Yeah, me and Cas grabbed something to eat before I came back. He said he had something to do back upstairs, but he would be back soon." It was as close to a confession as he would be able to get, but would Sam take it for what it was?

But Sam just nodded, taking another bite of his salad. "Well, at least you guys got to do something before he left."

Dean wasn't sure what to say to that. It was true, but it wasn't what he'd been hoping Sam would get out of what he'd said. He really did want to tell Sam about what was between him and Cas, but he couldn't just come out and say it because nothing was ever that easy. So he dropped it. "You said Gabe stopped by too? How did that go?"

"I think it went well," Sam said. "He mentioned the apocalypse is over, for real. He and his brothers are getting along well, I guess. Did Cas tell you Raphael didn't really kill him? Or at least, that's what Gabe said. Something about God not being the good guy."

"Cas mentioned that, right before he mentioned he's also an archangel but he didn't remember that until someone named Aziraphale made him remember. Didn't He throw his favorite son into Hell? And abandon all his children? Doesn't sound like a very nice guy to me."

Sam put his fork down and Dean wondered if he really should have said that out loud. But they still hadn't talked about how they felt about the other archangels. And he didn't even know who this Aziraphale was.

"Cas said there's seven archangels, and he named the the other six for me," Sam said. He picked up the fork and poked at the salad some more. He didn't really have much of an appetite, but Dean was still staring at him and would probably scold him if he stopped eating.

"Do we know who the two we haven't met are?" Dean asked.

"I haven't met Raphael," Sam reminded him, chewing on another bite of salad. "But I'm going to assume it's his twin and Lucifer's twin."

"They both have twins?"

"Uh-huh. Also, Lucifer isn't really his name and Cas didn't say as much, but I'm pretty sure we're supposed to call him by the other one if he prefers it. But this is interesting. So, his real name is Heylel, and Cas called his twin Samael, and I think that's interesting because that means all the human sources got it wrong, because most of the time in lore, they're both used as alternative names for Lucifer. And Aziraphale is Raphael's twin."

"How come we never heard about either of them when the apocalypse is going down?"

"Uh…. so you know how there was a prophet writing about us? I think there was a different prophet writing about them too."

"What makes you say that?" Dean asked.

Sam finished his salad and unwrapped the sandwich Dean had brought for him. "The only hit I got researching the name Aziraphale was for a book written in 1990 about an angel named Aziraphale and a demon named Crawly."

"Crowley? Fuck."

"Not that Crowley. This one's a fallen angel who can't remember his angelic name. Aziraphale couldn't remember it either, but you know, I _bet_ if all of them are chilling in Heaven, they might have remembered what it was by now. In the beginning of Good Omens, he gives an apple to Eve, which is a feat often attributed to Lucifer. But Cas called him Samael, and I think that all makes sense."

"Have you read this book?"

"I read it in college. It's really good, but I think I liked it better when I thought it was fantasy. Although, Cas said they're bonded and they are perfect for each other, so I guess it could be worse."

"Was there anything else?"

Sam shrugged and yawned. He decided he didn't want to eat the hamburger after all. "I think Gabriel and I are dating. Are you ready for bed? I'm really tired."

Under other circumstances, Dean might have thought that Sam was trying to avoid the question with redirection. But looking at his little brother, he could see that Sam really _was_ completely exhausted. Which was really odd, because they'd been sleeping minimally for a decade with no ill effects. But he let it go. "Yeah, I could sleep. Are you going to eat that hamburger?"

"Not hungry." Sam stood up, and headed back for his bed and the tantalizing pillow Cas had brought for him.

Dean watched for a moment, worried about why Sam would need so much sleep, but then decided he might as well follow suit. He could worry about it after a full night of sleep.

* * *

If Crowley had really wanted to, he could have just snapped the room clean, and if it had been any other room, he would have done just that. But even if he didn't really know what was going on with Raphael, he did know that his little brother had put in a _lot_ of effort with the warding of the small room and making it perfect for Michael and Heylel. So he collected the mangled feathers and scrubbed the blood off the floor by hand.

It gave him time to think without the pressure of the other archangels around. The change in development wasn't going to affect his mate bond with Azi, _he hoped,_ but being home, in Heaven, was still not the outcome he'd expected. He wasn't sure what he had expected. But it wasn't this.

At the same time though, he was glad to be home. Now that he could remember, he missed his flock. That's what they'd always been. Even before God had cast them out. And now he was home.

Crowley scrubbed harder. This was to be Mikha and Heylel's room, and they deserved it. The menial task was supposed to keep him from thinking to hard about why Raphael had been in such a state.

He finished up and headed back to the family nest, hoping that maybe some of the other archangels would be in there and he wouldn't have to be all alone.

"It's okay, Cas," his twin was whispering when he opened the door and poked his head inside.

Gabriel, Heylel, and Castiel were lying together in the nest, the small fledgling tucked between them and they had been speaking in the oldest form of Enochian, something Crowley hadn't heard or spoken since getting cast out. He didn't blame Heylel for that though, they'd been children seeking knowledge.

"Is there room for one more?" he asked quietly. He used their Old Enochian, guessing they hadn't wanted to awaken the fledgling or be overheard.

"Come join us!" Gabriel exclaimed. "We were just talking about Rafa'el. Have you noticed anything off about him?"

"Mikha and I found him in a weird state, but Mikha took him to take a bath. He was tearing feathers out of his wings."

The other three archangels all winced, wings twinging in sympathy.

"Do you have any ideas what might have happened in there?" Crowley asked. "I can't remember Rafa'el ever looking so disheveled."

"It's my fault," Heylel said, sounding guilty. "I asked him for some information he wasn't ready to talk about yet. We're pretty sure that at some point while Mikha was taking a long nap, he was sexually assaulted."

Crowley laid down, blinking at them. _Who the fuck would sexually assault an archangel._ He was going to fucking smite them. _No one_ touched his baby brothers.

"They're dead," Castiel added, reading the expression on Crowley's face. Or perhaps the anger in Crowley's grace.

"Okay." Crowley drew out the second syllable as he considered this new level of information. Raphael might have acted the way that he had because Heylel had triggered a panic attack. But what could they do to help Raphael now? What was Azi always telling him? Being supportive and building a support network. _They were a flock and they were all home._ But what if Raphael was mad they all knew, because _he_ hadn't been the one to tell them?

Before Crowley could phrase his newest train of thought into a question for the others, the door slammed open and his mate was bursting in, headed straight for the fledgling. None of them could get any words in edgewise before Aziraphale was climbing all over the top of them, and pulling at the now awake and whining Samandriel.

 _Even demons knew better than to wake a sleeping baby. Usually._

As his mate, Crowley could feel Aziraphale's grace the best, and he watched in confusion as the other archangel reached for Samandriel's core. Gabriel, sensitive to the fledglings discomfort was standing, but Crowley stopped him with a shake of his head. Azi wasn't going to hurt their fledgling, even if he couldn't quite tell what he was doing.

And then, they all felt the suddenly overwhelming impression of Raphael's grace emitting from the fledgling and they all had their answer.

* * *

Michael washed Raphael's wings as carefully as he could. After crying himself out, the healer's mindset appeared to have shifted back to normal, but that didn't mean he was going to leave him alone. The extensive damage to Raphael's wings needed careful treatment, and he was going to do just that. He didn't stop there though. One of the products in the cabinet was designed to ease the discomfort in fledglings brought on by their molts, so he decided he'd use that on the entirety of Raphael's wings. Even if that meant using all of the product. _Which he probably would._

"Mikha, I am not a fledgling," Raphael said for at least the tenth time. "Why are you treating me like one?"

"I know you're not a fledgling. But I also can't remember the last time I actually got to give any of you a bath, so I am going to take pleasure in doing this. Besides, do you even use this product on Samandriel? It's going to waste."

"Samandriel does not molt. I use other bath products to keep his wings healthy."

"See? No waste here." To emphasize his point, he poured another glop into a hand and continued scrubbing Raphael's wings.

Raphael huffed, but he didn't keep arguing, and Michael could tell that it was more for show than anything else. His little brother was enjoying himself. _Good. He deserved it._

The rest of the bath didn't take very long, but drying out wings always took a long time. It was part of why most fledglings really hated getting their wings wet.

Michael tried to dry Raphael's wings with a towel, but Raphael was shivering and shaking his wings such that it was making it impossible to do much more than duck out of the way of a wayward limb. "You're doing this on purpose!" Raphael hid a laugh, but Michael saw the repressed giggle all over his face. And it was nice. When was the last time he'd seen his little brother laugh? Raphael had _always_ been the most sedate of them, but had _any_ of them laughed since the negotiation for peace had gone well? They were all happy, but they were also tensed and pretending they weren't all terrified for whatever the Creator tried next. They all knew he was going to try something else, because there was no way he was going to just let them live peacefully after everything he'd done to separate them and keep them apart.

The eldest shook his head, letting Raphael's wing thump him heavily on the back. "Hey! What was that for!"

Raphael smiled. "You're worrying. The world isn't going to end in the next five minutes, so just, relax!"

Michael rolled his eyes, but Raphael was waving his wings and that was drying out his wings faster than the towel was.

 _"Congratulations, it's a boy."_

Michael heard it from the bond, but it wasn't Lucifer speaking. It sounded like Gabriel joking, but he recognized _that_ wry tone. It was Gabriel's attempt at using humor to hide his real feelings, which were probably stress, worry, and terror, at this particular moment.

He was about to prod Lucifer asking what Gabriel was going on about, but he didn't have to. A moment later, he and Raphael both felt it.

It wasn't specifically Raphael's grace. More like an echo. But it was strong and before Michael could say anything, Raphael was chasing it.

They followed it back to the family nest and Michael stood in the doorway and Raphael plowed forward, plucking the wailing fledgling from Aziraphale's arms and holding safely and securely in his arms. "It's okay, Sami," Raphael was whispering, soothingly. "It's okay."

"Rafa!" the fledgling cried, clinging to Raphael as tight as he could. "No nap, no nap!"

"You're ok Sami, you just got spooked," Raphael soothed, rubbing Samandriel's back softly as he began crying as well.

As the pair continued, Michael turned on the others, looking them all down. "Explain, now."

They all looked at each other, before Lucifer sighed, explaining everything through the bond. And as he learned more and more of the story, Michael felt sick. Everything had happened because he had fought the Creator, and refused to tell Him where Gabriel was. But if he hadn't fought against it, it was likely that none of them would have lived to be able to reach the point of the apocalypse, and having them all back in heaven once more absolutely never would have happened.

Seeing that Samandriel was calming down, Michael moved to kneel next to Raphael, carefully reaching out to gain the fledgling's attention. "Sami, do you know who your parents are?"

The fledgling sniffled, looking at Michael with large, wet eyes, as he snuggled into Raphael. "Don't matter, I gots Rafa," he mumbled, shifting to start sucking on his thumb as his eyes started drifting shut.

With a deep breath, Michael nodded, leaning to press a gentle kiss to the top of the fledgling's head. "That's right. You have Raphael, and the rest of us as well. Sleep, we will all be here when you wake."

Watching as Samandriel slowly fell back to sleep, Michael spread his wings, drawing all of his brothers close to him. After the shocks of the day, they all needed to stay together, to comfort each other, and to calm down from all the stress. None of them were tired, save for Raphael after the stress, but as the healer slowly fell asleep as well, the other archangels were all in agreement.

They wouldn't ever leave him alone again.

* * *

Raphael wouldn't heal instantly, but his siblings understood the gist of what had happened, and they wanted nothing more than to help him be okay. And for the most part, having them and Samandriel was good enough. The past hurt, but after 5000 years, maybe there had been enough time to heal, to be able to move forward. His feathers grew back and his molt ended and he was a lot happier about everything.

Lucifer started his molt during the tail end of Raphael's molt, which was a good thing because after being in the cage for most of 6000 years and not molting, he was a little behind and his feathers showed it.

Gabriel was stressed out. He'd seen plenty of victims during his time a trickster, but this was a lot different and way closer to home than he'd ever expected it to get and he didn't really know what to do.

HIs siblings weren't buying the wry humor he used as a defence mechanism and he appreciated their concern, but it wasn't _helping_. "You all have to meet the guy I like!" he exclaimed finally when they were all in the big nest. "But maybe not all at once, or right now."

The nest was thrown into chaos as they all tried to comprehend what was just said, but it was not anything they wouldn't be able to move away from. All was well within their home, and within their lives. Nothing would be able to cause them to drift apart.

But all was not well for every angel, nor even for every young angel.

For there was one other that had escaped the notice of all, save for one who had stolen them away from their rightful place. And as all the archangels were ready to sleep, the one who was stolen away was wide awake, trapped within a life of fear.

* * *

Tapping. Endless, continual tapping, with no point to it, and no sense to be made. There was little he feared more than the moments when the tapping stopped, because the moment it did, the anger and the shouting and the hurting would start again, and he wouldn't be able to do anything but crawl in a corner and cry.

There was a sound, one that came up in the shouts, one that he couldn't understand. It was like it was something that he was supposed to be called, but why would he even try and respond, when something told him that it wasn't what he was supposed to be called?

The tapping was slowing. Things on the table were clinking, the way the big cups did when they would bump into each other. He needed to go, to find somewhere to hide. He had learned well enough that when the tapping slowed, and the clinks started, things were going to get loud, and scary, and he would need to hide.

But moving through the house wasn't easy for him, not like it was for the one who shouted. He couldn't hold himself up, or take steps like the other, or even crawl fast. If he needed to hide, he needed to start moving, and quick.

So he started moving, trying to go to the dark where he was safe, to the small room with the soft cloth, or under the squeaky bed in the other's room, back into the corner where no one would be able to find him and hurt him.

It wasn't that often he was able to hide there, when he could be safe, because he was too slow, too small, too dumb to go where he needs to.

And as a crash sounded from the food room, and the tapping stopped entirely, his breathing quickened as tears began to fill his eyes. It was starting again, and he was in danger. He was too slow, and he would pay the price for his mistake.

The other was shouting now, but he wasn't using the sound that demanded a response yet, but he still needed to move, to leave, to hide somewhere, and not make a sound.

But the door to the other's room was closed. He wouldn't ever be able to get it open, he was just too small, and the door too big. The door to the small room was open though, and he hurried to hide in there, to crawl under the soft, warm cloths that hid him so well.

As soon as he entered the small room though, another crash sounded off, with the other screaming the sound that demanded response. The one that meant hurt was coming.

He quickly crawled to the back of the room, pulling the cloths over himself, and pulling one of the smaller cloths close and chewing on it to try and keep calm and keep the other from hearing him.

There were thuds coming closer, the shouting getting louder and louder, until the other was screaming from the door to the small room, and he was shaking as tears started covering his face.

"Fine! You can stay in there for all I care!"

The other shouted, before slamming the door closed, the loud sound of the locks closing echoing through the room.

He wanted out. He wanted to be free. He wanted no more pain. But he couldn't ever have what he wanted.

He didn't deserve it. And he never would.


	14. Convergence: Samandriel

I'm sageclover61 over on AO3, and if you've ever checked my account there you will have noticed that over there, Paradise is the series title. This is the first chapter of the newest arc, this arc going by the title Convergence.

* * *

Sam leaned his head forward, pressing it against Gabriel's chest, and yawned. He was so tired of being perpetually exhausted, but Gabriel never judged. At times, Sam wondered if maybe the archangel liked the change of pace.

They were cuddling on Sam's bed in the hotel. Dean had left with Cas earlier and his archangel had dropped by.

"You don't have to stay awake for me," Gabriel whispered into Sam's hair. Sam barely had the opportunity to _think_ 'Don't leave,' before the trickster pagan archangel was continuing, "I'll stay right here as long as you want me to. But this is nice."

"Have things to do," Sam tried to argue. But it was a weak excuse these days. He suspected it might be the pillow Castiel had given him, but he'd been sleeping better than he'd ever slept before. And far too much. If his alarms were within arms reach, they didn't go off. And the distance they had to be from the bed was increasing. _Dean had been pissed, but he hadn't asked about it yet._

"You can't function without sleep, Sam. I think Cas and Dean are going to be gone all day, we could do something fun when you wake up." Gabriel had been visiting Sam with a greater frequency since initiating the courting bond, and they went and did things together. They'd seen some movies in theaters, ate at fancy restaurants around the world, toured a few museums. And on one notable occasion, Gabriel even found Sam a quick hunt and went on it with him.

Sam was happy, genuinely blissful for the first time in a long time. "Thank you," he mumbled, leaning further towards Gabriel as the archangel pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Fighting sleep was still first nature, but the relaxed state of listening to Gabriel's steady heartbeat, _why do archangels have heartbeats-_ was as good as sleeping.

The door opened, but it wasn't Dean and it didn't bang open like it would have if it had been. The sound also didn't wake Sam, who had finally fallen asleep in Gabriel's arms.

"Hey, Gabe? Can you keep an eye on Samandriel for a few hours?"

Gabriel glanced at the doorway, where Aziraphale and Samandriel were standing. "Sure, I guess." He liked the small fledgling, and there was no reason for Sami to _not_ stay with him and Sam on Earth for a few hours while Azi did whatever it was that required the fledgling to not be in Heaven. Which, all things considered, was probably for the best since it seemed pretty likely that Azi was looking for the opportunity to talk to his twin without any possible chance of Raphael's fledgling eavesdropping. And if Gabriel was going to try this courting thing, he would have to eventually find out if Sam could get along with Sami.

Which was how Sam woke up with a small child sleeping beside him. The child appeared to be about five or six at the most, and was wrapped in a light blue blanket. From the angle the blanket was wrapped, Sam could see wings poking out from underneath. "Hey, Gabe?" he called out. "Who is this, why is there a fledgling in my bed?"

The fledgling blinked up at him, sleepily. "I's Sami! Azi broughted me!"

Azi, short for Aziraphale, Sam assumed, filing the information into his head. He didn't remember Gabriel or Castiel mentioning any fledglings in their flock, but that might have been information left out for the protection of said fledgling. _Wait._ Hadn't God created all the angels long before he'd left, such that they should all have been _adults?_

Gabriel stepped into view, holding a kettle with one hand and whisking the contents with the other. "Sam-a-lam! I'm glad you're awake! I was just making pancakes. This is Raph's fledgling, Samandriel. Samandriel, I'd like you to meet Sam."

Sami blinked up at Sam. He squinted, and Sam wondered if the fledgling was trying to get around the similarity between the sounds in the two names. He didn't say anything, because he _didn't_ have a nickname that would help out the fledgling.

"Tha's Samael's short name," the fledgling whined, pouting as he pulled his blanket close. "Can't be your name, 's not yours!"

Sam blinked at Samandriel, confused as to how to proceed. "Okay, what name do you think I should go by? It's the only one I have that's not an indication of family."

The fledgling squinted harder. "Then… Then… You's should be-" But the fledgling had no idea what other name this _Sam_ should go by. There was no easy way to shorten it further and he didn't know enough about the human to give him an entirely new name.

"Samandriel, why don't we figure out what to call him later, and have a snack?" Sam looked up to see Gabriel walking towards him, carrying a tray of various foods. "Azi and Raph will get a bit mad at me if I don't have you eat something, so why not think while you eat?"

The fledgling looked deep in thought for several moments, before nodding as he scootched closer to Sam to make room for Gabriel to sit next to them. "Guess so."

"Weren't you just making pancakes?" Sam asked, confused by the spread appearing to be everything except pancakes.

Gabriel merely smirked. "Yeah, but that was before Sami here woke up. Kiddo's more used to things like finger foods, and I figured that your nice, comfy bed wasn't the place to test if he's ready to graduate to a fork and knife." There was a pause as they watched Samandriel reach for some of the small sandwiches. "Besides, I happen to know that finger food is more fun than real food."

Sam rolled his eyes, glaring at Gabriel lightly. "Gabriel….."

"What?" The archangel was grinning, entirely unrepentant for his innuendo in front of the fledgling.

Sam shook his head, deciding that it wasn't worth it to say anything else. He took a strawberry from the plate. It was tender, but not overripe. Certainly better than pancakes. As he glanced down at the fledgling who had juice dripping down his chin, he decided that Gabriel probably had a point. He didn't really want syrup all over his brand new pillow.

And if their conversation really was going over the fledgling's head, who certainly wasn't paying attention to them… He leaned forward to give Gabriel a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'd certainly be open to trying whatever you had in mind," he whispered.

Gabriel ducked his head. He had complete control over his vessel and so wasn't blushing, but it was a near thing. "Maybe we can talk about it later?"

They ate mostly in silence after that, except for Samandriel rambling on about everything in the way that fledglings do.

"You's can be Sam," the fledgling declared.

Sam dutifully hummed in agreement, but he'd barely heard the sound through his fog muddled thoughts. Gabriel and Samandriel had been talking at a reasonable level, so it was really easy to let the perpetual exhaustion take control for a little while. Gabriel would be on high alert protecting the fledgling, there was no way they were anything but safe and sometimes the thought of sleep just felt so nice.

He felt something warm and heavy against his side and shoulder. It was soft, and he didn't feel like opening his eyes when he already knew he wouldn't see anything. Gabriel was tactile, of course it was a wing.

All too soon the door banged open louder than the person likely intended. That was Dean's thing, and he was _really good_ at it. "Hey, Sammy!"

There was an awkward pause as Dean's gaze found the archangel, the child with mint green wings fluttering with agitation, and his had been sleeping brother.

"Uh… Sam? Who's the kid?"

Sam stared blearily at Dean. "This is Sami." He placed emphasis on the second syllable in an attempt to get his brother to catch what he was implying.

Sami pouted. "I's Sammy," he agreed. "Who's you?" he asked in Dean's direction.

"That's my big brother, Dean. He called me the wrong name without knowing it was yours, but big brothers have special privileges when it comes to name calling. And I promise he won't do it again while you're here."

Sami frowned slightly, tilting his head slightly as he turned to look at Dean. "You's a big brother?"

Dean grinned. "Yep! I've been a big brother for as long as so can remember. What about you? Are you a big brother?"

"No," Sami answered, pouting. "But you hasta teach me! Imma be the bestest bigged brother!"

Both Sam and Dean blinked in confusion.

Gabriel looked at Samandriel. _He was in so much trouble._ "Sami, Kiddo, you're the only fledgling in our nest."

"No! Bestest brother."

Dean walked towards the bed. "Well, it couldn't hurt to teach you a few things about being an older brother. I always protect my little brother, even when I'm mad at him. And there's things I get to say to him that no one else in the world can even _think_."

Dean folded himself onto the end of the bed, settling in to tell Sami the better stories he could think of about being an older brother.

And Sam watched. The fledgling crawled over to sit in front of Dean and Gabriel shifted so he was cuddling Sam. Saw was still exhausted, but Dean's storytelling had always been too enthralling to sleep during.

"I'm sorry I'm so boring," Sam whispered to the archangel sometime later, when Dean was talking about the rabbit's foot and Sam's missing shoe.

"You're not boring," Gabriel whispered back. "There's nothing wrong with a quiet day, and Samandriel seems to be really enjoying story time with your brother."

"Dean's bestest at storytime," he giggled. He yawned, closing his eyes as Gabriel brushed his forehead with a hand then kissed his cheek.

Despite his desire to continue listening to Dean's stories, Sam did end up falling asleep in Gabriel's arms.

"Okay, Buddy," Gabriel said a while later. "We should probably think about heading home."

"No!" Samandriel left Dean's side, crawling over to carefully slide himself against Sam's back. Sam didn't stir at all. "Wanna stay here."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but relented. "Alright, but if you wake Sam, we're leaving."

They didn't end up staying until Sam woke up because Aziraphale let Gabriel know that if it wasn't too much of an inconvenience, he could bring Sami back whenever he wanted to. He hoped that maybe leaving, Sami would get the idea of 'learning how to be an older brother' out of his head. _Yes_ it was an open secret that Mikha and Heylel thought they were ready to start having children and were trying pretty hard to have said children, but that didn't mean that Sami was supposed to know about it or that Rafa would appreciate Sami mentioning it in every other breath.

Dean woke Sam up about half an hour after Gabriel left. "Hey, Sleepyface, wake up. If you sleep all day, how are you supposed to sleep _tonight_?"

Sam was pretty sure that he could sleep all day _and_ sleep all night, but he was also pretty sure that wasn't what his brother really wanted to hear, so he didn't say it. "Did you find a hunt?" he asked instead.

"Since you've been neglecting the search, yes, I _did._ It's a long drive, so you can sleep in the car."

Sam slept the entire car ride. With the pillow from Cas tucked against the doorframe of the impala, he slept better than he had since he'd been a child, tucked safely against Dean, lulled by the purring engine.

"I'm not sure what's going on with you," Dean said when they were sitting at the table in the new hotel room. "But I _need_ you to tell me if you're not okay, not feeling well enough to have my back. You know how dangerous hunting can be if your head's not in the game."

"I'm fine!" Sam insisted, gulping his coffee. He _knew_ what could happen if he couldn't get rid of the fog in his brain that just wouldn't go away. He couldn't get Dean killed because he couldn't focus.

"Okay, well, I'm going to get some sleep. If you can keep from falling asleep for five minutes, you should do some research."

Sam did the research. And fell asleep on the couch. And the hunt was more or less a success. Even if Cas showing up ended up being a good thing for Dean because Sam well… Nobody knew.

"We have babysitting duty," Gabriel declared about half a week later at the next hotel room they were staying in. He was bouncing a giggling Sami on his hip and looked quite pleased with himself.

"Good morning, Sami," Sam said, walking towards them.

"Sam!" Sami raised his arms in the universal sign of "hold me". "Up! Up! You's tall!"

Sam took Sami from Gabriel and then put the fledgling on his shoulders. "Is that better?"

"Woah!"

Sam grinned, then walked around the room. The fledgling squealed when Sam stopped and straightened randomly as he moved.

"Pway game?" Sami asked when Sam started a second loop.

"What if we play hide and seek outside?" Gabriel suggested.

"Yes!" Sami exclaimed. "Down, Sam!"

Sam laughed and put the fledgling down. He grabbed his coat and followed Gabriel and the fledgling outside. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sam whispered to Gabriel. "I don't want to lose Sami."

"It'll be great! Sami, you and I'll hide and Sam can look for us. Sam, please cover your eyes and count, loudly to 100!"

Sam counted. He was going to never find Sami, and then he was going to either kill Gabriel or make the archangel smite him before the rest of the archangels found out he lost their child. He sniffled.

The temperature dropped and Sam worried further. Sami lived in Heaven, which was probably warm. What if the fledgling couldn't handle the cold?

It was April. Not very far into it. A little late for the temperature to drop, but not totally unheard of.

"Ready or not, here I come!" he shouted.

He'd find the fledgling first, let Gabe count the next time. If he hid with the fledgling, he wouldn't have to worry about losing him.

Ten minutes into looking, it started snowing. Sam was cold, and tired, and his nose was running, and he was _going_ to murder his boyfriend.

In the end, Sam found neither Gabriel, nor the fledgling, but Sami found him. "Sam! I's cold!"

The fledgling was shivering, wings shaking out the snow and trembling. Sam picked him up, unzipping his jacket because he couldn't think of a better way to offer the fledgling warmth. And then he headed back towards the motel because he knew he needed to get them both warm.

Gabriel came back to the room a little while later to find Sam and the fledgling curled up on the bed, bedding piled up around them. They were both shivering.

"Hey, Sam, you still awake?" he asked quietly as he approached.

"Mmm," Sam mumbled. His arms tightened around the fledgling and he shivered harder.

"I think Sami decided he wanted it to snow, but I counteracted most of it so people will just think there was an unpredicted spring storm. You okay?"

"Cold." Sam sniffled in emphasis.

A few minutes later, two figures appeared in the doorway. Michael as the very young John Winchester and Lucifer in his normal vessel except Nick had long since ceased falling apart.

Michael was holding a folded blanket and on top of it was a pillow. They appeared to be fleece and looked very soft.

Gabriel grinned when he saw them and ran over to hug them both.

"You're here to meet my intended, right? You have to come meet Sam."

"I was a little worried about the snowstorm," Michael admitted. "Everything all right down here?"

"Sami got a little excited while we were playing hide and seek, but no harm no foul and he's just fine. If a little cold." Gabriel dragged his older brothers over to the bed. "Sam, Mikha and Heylel wanted to come say hello."

"Hello," Sam said, turning his head to look at them. He was bleary eyed and didn't see them very well, and didn't make an effort to move much because he was just so _cold._

"We'll come say hi sometime when you're move awake," Michael promised. "But we brought a blanket and pillow for you in the meantime."

Gabriel got Sam to lift his head so that Michael's pillow could go next to the one Castiel had given them, and Heylel carefully draped the blanket over the human and fledgling. Sam hummed in appreciation.

"We came to pick up Sami," Heylel said quietly. "But they look so cozy, I don't want to move them."

"If someone doesn't come to get him later, I'll bring him back tonight," Gabriel replied. "See you later?"

The older archangels nodded and flew off.

Gabriel laid down on the bed next to Sam and woke up from a light doze to find Sami standing next to Raphael and the healer tucking a blanket that had already been wrapped around Sam over him. It didn't have the same feeling as the one Mikha had brought, and instead felt strongly of Raphael's grace.

"Your mate's taken a bit of a cold, but it's just from exhaustion, he'll be fine," Raphael promised. "I'm going to take my fledgling home so you two can get some more sleep, there's a bowl of soup here that'll stay warm until you're both ready to eat it. Go back to sleep, Gabby. You both deserve it."


	15. Convergence: Heylel

"I know I talk about how much I love my brothers, and how different they are than they were during the apocalypse. But you shouldn't just take my word for it because your feelings about the apocalypse matter too, and they _hurt you._ If you can be comfortable with it, I'd like you to consider meeting, Heylel at least, when he's alone so that you can form an opinion for yourself. But it's okay if you can't, I don't want to push you into doing something that makes you uncomfortable."

Sam's breath hitched, but he forced himself to relax. He _loved_ Gabriel. And even if it seemed like an unbelievable future, he couldn't fathom not spending the rest of his life with _his_ archangel. And if Gabriel wanted him to consider meeting Heylel, then he could think about it. There was a pretty slim chance he would be in danger from the elder archangel, and if Gabriel thought there was _any_ chance, he wouldn't be suggesting it in the first place.

"You don't have to do decide now," Gabriel said. "And you don't have to do it just because you think it'll make me happy."

"I don't want you to pick me over your family," Sam said. "And I do want to meet them, even your Heylel."

"There won't be any true vessel shenanigans, I swear it. Mikha and Heylel are so in love it's gross and Mikha has laid claim to Heylel's current vessel."

Sam could be down with no pressure to say yes. "They're probably trying to embarrass you. Older brothers' prerogative and all that. But I'll do it. I'll meet your brothers and form my own opinion."

"Thank you." Gabriel kissed Sam's cheek. "Thank you."

* * *

Sam didn't really think about Gabriel's request until he got a business card sized note with a request to meet at a coffee shop in down. It made a point to remind Sam that there was no obligation to show up, but Sam decided he _wanted_ to meet Heylel on neutral territory and if he didn't do it now, he might chicken out and _never_ get it done.

Sam was late. It wasn't intentional, but he realized that he wanted to ensure that he arrived after the archangel.

He identified Heylel the second he walked into the coffee shop, ad he wasn't afraid. It was pretty empty, but no one seemed too unhappy. People drinking their coffee or eating their snacks.

Heylel was sitting at a table in the back, a glass of water and a chocolate chip muffin in front of him.

He approached calmly, taking the seat across from Heylel. "Hello."

"Good afternoon, Sam." Heylel looked up. "I don't know if Gabriel mentioned it, but I would prefer if you call me Heylel, not Lucifer."

"Heylel," Sam repeated, more because he wanted to be sure that the archangel understood his intention to call him by the preferred name. He wasn't a dick, and he wasn't surprised, because he still remembered that both Gabriel and Castiel called their elder brother by the older name.

He wasn't sure what else he was supposed to say. The apocalypse was over and everyone was unbelievably happy, _like a Djinn dream_ , and at times it felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Water?" he inquired about instead, for lack of having anything else to say. "I would have thought expresso was more your style."

"If it's bad for pregnant humans, I think I'll pass. Water is fine."

Sam blinked. _Pregnant?_ Actually… he wasn't surprised if they really _had_ been going at it like rabbits. Asking would be rude though. "Are you happy?"

That seemed to be the right thing to say, because Heylel beamed. "Sam, I honestly regret how you were used to bring about the apocalypse, and to some extent, all of us _are_ to blame for that. But I would like to add that hurting Mikha was _never_ my intention, even when I temporarily believed that he might try to kill me. I was cast out of Heaven, by God, in my attempt to protect my mate from His wrath. And yes, Sam. I _am_ happy. The one thing I've wanted for so long was to return to my flock, and for it to be whole, and now our family is going to expand and I have _never_ been happier."

Sam nodded. Lucifer may have gotten a bad wrap in the lore on Earth and despite Heylel's less than apt delivery, he had sympathized with the fallen archangel because it _was_ a parallel to his own childhood. And maybe that had been part of the whole point, but that didn't matter.

He didn't know if Heylel deserved the second chance, or even if he himself deserved it, but he wasn't judge and jury so that wasn't relevant either. What mattered was the fact that they _did_ have their second chance, and as the Romans would have said it, it was time to _Seize the Day._

"Would you like to go pick out something for yourself?" Heylel asked after a moment, holding out a leaf of money that Sam was pretty sure he hadn't been holding a second before.

"Uh, thank you," Sam said. "Do you want me to get something for you too?" Because it didn't matter that he hadn't digested everything Heylel had said yet. He _knew_ the archangel wasn't lying, and that he was telling the truth about everything (including being pregnant) and you were _always_ nice to pregnant people. (And maybe he wasn't supposed to instantaneously forgive Lucifer for everything he'd done in the last year, but given that it hadn't been Lucifer personally who had caused any damage to him _at all_ except the creepy pretending to be Jess in the beginning, _which was probably more a lack of understanding humans than anything else_ , he was pretty inclined to let bygones be bygones.)

"I'm good, thanks Sam," Heylel said with a nod.

"Okay. I'll be right back." Sam got up and headed for the line to order.

He didn't know exactly what he wanted, but the line was long enough that he had some time to decide. He also had time to think about his feelings towards Heylel.

Carthage had been _bad_. They hadn't been able to see the reapers, but it hadn't been good. And the explosion and hellhounds had killed Jo and Ellen.

Sam blamed Meg for their deaths, but Lucifer had been responsible to some extent as well. At least he wasn't trying to get back at him for shooting him with the colt.

"What can I get you?"

Sam _almost_ ordered a white chocolate and caramel macchiato but Heylel apparently couldn't have coffee (Why would caffeine be bad for a baby angel?) so he decided not to rub it in his face. "I'd like the white chocolate caramel chai and two of those brownies, one of those glazed lemon bread, and…. Could you put a piece of apple pie in a to go box? Thanks."

Sam was waiting for his order when a quick look to see that Heylel was okay revealed that Heylel was no longer alone. He knew when the young man with the appearance of the young John Winchester kissed Heylel on the cheek that Michael had shown up.

The hunter wasn't sure how to feel about that. He hadn't met the Viceroy of Heaven personally, and he knew he couldn't just accept Dean's assessment at face value. But Zachariah and Uriel had been pretty clear about serving Michael and that did not provide a sterling reputation.

And yet, watching Michael's body language, Gabriel was right. They were so in love it was adorable, and if that homophobic dick actually said anything aloud…

"This is a family establishment, you and your kind are not welcome!"

The items Sam had paid for were placed on the counter, so he grabbed them and stalked in the direction of the homophobe that _really_ shouldn't have been bothering the archangels.

"As scum of the Earth, your opinion isn't relevant," he growled. He hated intolerant hypocrites, and he hated that if the guy started anything, one or the other of the archangels would probably _smite_ him (and he'd deserve it.)

"And what are you going to do about it?"

The guy might have intimidated other people, but Sam was more than six feet of muscle and not only had he learned how to make himself smaller for the sake of not terrifying the humans they interviewed, but since he hunted monsters for a day job, he was quite capable of looking intimidating.

So he did. And the guy creating a scene might have wet himself if he hadn't been so angry.

And then the man was moving. And he might have successfully upended his hot coffee over someone's head, _probably Heylel,_ but Sam was faster. Sam was faster because if there's one thing you never do, it's scald someone carrying a child. _Not even an archangel, and especially not when the archangel's archangelic mate is likely to smite you for it._ Sam didn't really care about what the aftermath was going to be, he just really wanted to pour his hot tea over the homophobe's head because it was _fun._

Sam's front took the brunt of the coffee that was aimed for Heylel, but Sam had better aim, so the homophobe found himself drenched from head to toe in Sam's white chocolate caramel chai.

Michael stood up, putting a hand on Sam's elbow. "I think you should leave," he said coldly to the drenched man.

Sam couldn't quite tell what it was, but something in his tone must have had grace in it, because the man nodded and left without so much as another word. "Michael?"

"Come sit, Sam, I didn't mean to interrupt your luncheon with Heylel."

A few seconds later, Sam was sitting down, next to Michael, Heylel across from them. His pastries and pie box were on the table, he was dry, and his cup had a steaming liquid in it. He wasn't quite sure what the archangel had done, but he could guess. "Thank you," he said. "Did you want something to eat?"

"That apple pie smells divine," Mikha said, almost whining. "May I have it, please?"

Heylel licked his lips. "May I please have that lemon bread? Please?"

Sam handed Michael the to go box with the pie, and the lemon bread to Heylel. And then he started eating his brownie before one or the other archangel could call dibs on it. There was no way he was going to say no to either archangel. It was just food, and Heylel _had_ paid for it. If there was any pie left at the front counter when they were ready to go, he'd buy more for Dean then.

"Sam, if you had any questions for us, about anything at all," Michael said, "you're welcome to ask. We'll take no offense to any question, this once."

Sam took a hasty sip of his tea, almost choking on his brownie. Sure, he had plenty of questions. But he was inclined to never satiate his curiosity about the less polite questions. And interrogating them about angel biology seemed kind of rude.

However… "Will you tell me about the syntax of the Enochian word meaning Paradise?"

* * *

Sam felt good about having met Heylel at the coffee shop. He wasn't sure he'd gotten answers about everything he wanted to know, but at the same time, that wasn't entirely relevant. The one thing John Winchester had done correctly, was instill his children proper respect for the pregnant. The xenophobic bastard would have been specifying pregnant _ladies,_ but Sam wasn't about to treat pregnant archangels any different.

They'd stayed long enough for both archangels to try just about every pastry the store had sold, but no one had expected Sam to pay for it. There was a small doggy bag of extra pastries on the table, including a box of pie for Dean. Sam had no idea what they were going to do with all the desserts because there was no way _he_ was eating all of them. Maybe Gabriel would swing by and eat some of them.

"How'd it go?" Gabriel asked, lounging in the doorway.

"It was fun," Sam answered. "There's a bag of desserts on the table, take what you want. But please not Dean's pie."

Gabriel pouted, already looking through the leftovers. "Why does Deano get dibs on the pie?"

"Because we are _not_ antagonizing my older brother?"

Gabriel settled for a blueberry muffin and shoved the top of the pastry into his mouth. "Learn anything interesting?"

"Besides the fact that at least one of your older brothers is pregnant? I don't know. I definitely wasn't expecting anything like what I saw from the Viceroy and his mate. I'm pretty sure they kept expecting me to ask about angel biology."

"None of us actually know that much. I got Heylel to tell me what he knows, but the extent of our knowledge is that for any our kind to get pregnant, the baby has to be wanted. That's all we know. Heylel is pregnant, but why did you say, 'at least one'?"

Sam shrugged. "Not sure." It wasn't the entire truth, but Sam wasn't sure he could explain the suspicion hiding in the back of his mind.

"Mikha and Heylel had a lot of fun today too. They wouldn't stop talking about how you poured your drink on some scum's head while defending their honor. But they were curious about why you were asking about the Enochian word for Paradise."

"I know the apocalypse is over, but… there's something about the way Cas was talking about English words that would mean the same thing. Change can be positive or negative, and what's going on in Heaven is a change, and you're very happy, which suggests it's a good change, but I guess I'm worried about the other shoe dropping."

"Enochian is a very old language with a very small vocabulary of words. That doesn't mean that the future is going to suddenly worsen, Sam. We're all very happy."

"I know," Sam said, wondering if maybe he shouldn't have said anything about it. He was worried, but that didn't mean he had the right to put all that on Gabriel.

Gabriel vanished the rest of the muffin and walked towards Sam. Sam flinched, not sure what to expect. If he'd disturbed Michael and Heylel with his questions, it was within Gabriel's right to hurt him.

"Oh, Sam." Gabriel pulled his intended into a hug. "I love you. I do wish you would tell me that you're worrying."

"Can't help it," Sam mumbled.

"I know, Sweetheart." Gabriel sighed, but didn't let go of Sam. "I do think that today was a success, and I'm so happy that it went well." Gabriel kissed Sam's cheek. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Yes!" Sam loved spending time with Gabriel and giving him reasons to stick around.

"Do you like the Bugs bunny cartoon? I wanted to rewatch it, see if it would be suitable for Samandriel, and of course we have to start at the beginning."

Sam of course fell asleep while they were watching it, but Gabriel didn't mind. Sam had been in a state of high energy for so long, it made sense that he would have trouble converting back to a lower state of energy. So he cuddled next to Sam and let the cartoon continue running.

* * *

Less a week later, Gabriel had mentioned in passing that there was a dog park a few blocks from the motel, so Sam had told Dean he was going for a run. He didn't mention the dog park because he didn't feel that doing so was necessary. The weather was nice for being the middle of April, warm enough for just the long sleeve shirt.

With the nicer weather, there were a good number of dog walkers at the park. Sam found a bench so that he could sit and watch without looking too suspicious.

"Hello, Sam. Do you you mind if I join you?"

The words were spoken about half an hour later without Sam noticing that the speaker had arrived.

Instead of speaking, Sam slid to the edge of the bench, making room for Heylel to sit. "How are you?"

"Baby was excited this morning, but I am well." Heylel took the offered seat. "Yourself?"

"I'm also well," Sam answered. "The weather is nice today and I wanted to watch the dogs. Do you like dogs?"

"I like all of creation," Heylel said. "Including dogs. Dogs were always intended to be the companions of your kind. I didn't really understand that in my youth, but my opinion has since changed."

"I'm surprised you haven't been referring to us as 'mud monkeys.'"

"My memories of the beginning were altered when I was cast into the cage. My twin and I wanted to get Eve to eat the fruit of knowledge because our simple curiosity needed to know what would happen. But I ate the fruit before anyone else, and then I shared it with most of my flock."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry you were wrongfully cast out."

"I'd like to think that the current situation is the best possible one, and that without all the wrong that happened, we wouldn't be here now. But today is a good and happy day, can we perhaps talk about something else?"

"Of course!" Sam nodded amenably. "Do you have a favorite breed of dog?"

Heylel considered the question. "There was a species of supernatural dog. Father created them to be our companions, and then decided He'd gotten them wrong, so he ordered for them to be destroyed. But not for the reasons He claimed. The ones that were vicious were such because He wanted them to be." He shook his head. "It's my fault Hellhounds as they are now exist, and I do regret that they've caused harm to you and yours but not as much as I should because I _had_ to save my Ramsey."

 _Of course_ Heylel's favorite dog would be a hellhound. And if Sam found out Heylel's dog was still alive, there was no way he wasn't returning it. But before Sam could decide what to say about it, Heylel continued, "but you were asking about my favorite of humanity's companions, not my own sweet girl." There was more silence. "I'm not sure I can pick a favorite."

They pet a few dogs that approached and whose owners' said they could pet them. Sam was certain the dogs were attracted to Heylel, but it was kind of adorable and he got to pet them too.

"What happened to Ramsey?"

"She's in Hell, I believe, imprisoned somewhere, undoubtedly." Heylel shook his head. "I'm going to head back before Mikha gets worried." He disappeared with a single wingbeat.

Sam sighed. He shouldn't have pushed. But he _was_ going to get Ramsey back for Heylel. I could double as a bridal shower/ baby shower present. Not the most traditional present, but he was pretty sure that all the grace infused bedding he'd been receiving from Gabriel's flock wasn't traditional either.

But how was he going to break into Hell and release the alpha hellhound without getting killed was going to be an interesting challenge. But one that would likely have to wait.


	16. Convergence: Crowley (Samael)

When Samuel Winchester set his mind to something, he followed through. So when he decided he was going to find Heylel's lost Ramsey, it was a no brainer that he would spend a good amount of time researching ways to follow through.

But there wasn't a lot of lore on how to get in and out of Hell, much less on how to find the mother of all Hellhounds and release her in the process.

So of course, when it seemed like he'd exhausted all possibilities, he started seeking out more knowledgeable sources, starting with some low life crossroad demons.

But no one knew anything. Ramsey was a myth, a legend, a hellhound alpha so deep in Hell that even their bosses had never actually been there.

And Sam was frustrated. It was still the middle of April, and he had no idea how long angelic pregnancies were supposed to last, and he just wanted to do something for Gabriel's family.

"I had wondered what was driving the demons into a frenzy. Not sure whether or not it should surprise me that it's you."

Sam turned around. It was a testament to how calm the last month had been that he wasn't instinctively reaching for a blade. Not that it would have helped much, given the fact that he'd _heard_ the sound of wings, which had become a pretty common sound, lately.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure?" he said.

"You can call me Samael, or Crowley, whatever suits your fancy," he drawled. "I'm Heylel's twin."

Of course he was. Sam remembered _that_ from Cas' quick rundown of their flock. "And you're tracking what the demons are getting up to?"

The black hair man smirked. "Someone has to keep an eye on them. Why not me? They don't have any idea who they've been dealing with for the last 6000 years."

Sam had read Good Omens in college, so he had some idea what the angel was talking about. "Do _you_ know where I'd find Heylel's Ramsey? I'd like to return her."

Crowley shook his head, smirk shifting into a wry smile. "It _would_ be you," he repeated. "Okay. I'm bored enough to lend you a hand, and Gabriel will kill me if you attempt this by yourself and finds out that I didn't either stop you or help out enough to keep you alive. But, you can't tell _my_ mate either, because I promised not to go back to Hell without backup. Then again, you could be my backup…. Never said it couldn't be human backup."

Sam blinked. "Can we go right now?"

"It would probably be better to do more research first, but I guess I don't see why not. Do you have everything you need?"

"I think so. Do you think we'll have to fight our way through Hell? I brought a blade capable of demons if you think I need it."

"Always a good idea. We might have to ask for some directions first because I can only fly us into Hell if I don't know where we're going."

"And who in Hell is going to give us directions?"

Samael smirked. "Not directions, per se… You'll see." He reached for Sam's arm, and at the hunter's nod, they were gone.

Sam could honestly say is was the most disconcerting flight he'd been on. For one, it took longer than the average instant that he attributed to angelic flight, and for another, he almost threw up when they hit ground and that had never happened before either.

"Sorry about that," Samael said a moment later when Sam had caught his breath and didn't feel like he was about to hurl. "I don't usually fly with company and flying into Hell is always a bumpy ride."

"Is okay," Sam said. He blinked, trying to get a better look at where they were. If he didn't know they were in Hell, he would have thought they were at some kind of mall. "Where are we?"

"Welcome to Retail Hell."

Sam had no idea what Retail Hell was supposed to be. He had assumed all of hell was about physical torture. He voiced that sentiment.

"Are you familiar with Sartre? Azi's so fond of books, which is how I know of him. Anyway, one of the more famous lines is 'Hell is other people'. It's regularly misunderstood, however, he isn't wrong. Torture doesn't have to be physical to be effective."

"Do Dante's works have any accuracy, then? In that not not all torture in Hell is the same, I mean."

"Different types of Hell in various layers, with different tortures dependent on the evil-doers greatest sin. Yes, Sam, that is mostly accurate, if an incredibly simple comparison. Though Dante, of course, was not accurate as to all of the specifics. Not everyone finds physical torture the most breaking, and some people deserve other punishments more. This- This is Retail Hell. Customers tormenting cashiers, cashiers tormenting customers, and no one ever gets that one thing they think they need more than anything else in the world." Samael was smirking, Sam was sure of it.

"And we're here for information? How is that going to work?"

Samael's smirk grew larger, and Sam was uncomfortably reminded that this Crowley had spent a few thousand years as a demon. One who 'did not fall, so much as saunter vaguely downwards.' "The bartering of inane facts for other equally inane facts is ancient. But it was my own invention that said activity should never produce those facts which one might give their life to learn. What better punishment for those haughty scholars who would spend their lives and afterlives seeking information that is not theirs to gain?"

"Do these scholars really deserve that kind of punishment?" Sam asked. He wasn't sure what this archangel's view on humans was, but he was asking because he wanted to understand. Sure, humans who deserved to be in Hell existed, but he wasn't sure who had the authority to decide that kind of a thing.

"Sam, I understand that you have a strong faith in humanity, but so many people have been collateral damage in the long lived quest for knowledge and immortality. And many of them were murdered for what someone thought would be a "greater good". Why should any one, human or immortal, get to decide that for the whole? The sheer _hubris_. So the punishment shall fit the crime committed."

"So how are _we_ going to get the information that we seek?"

"One question leads to a thousand more. Even on Earth, the search for answers is fruitless. But we don't need all the answers. We don't even desire them. We're looking for the Mother of Hellhounds. Her location is in Hell. It has to be, because Heylel thought she would be safe here. But the lowest of demons can't remember her, are not convinced that she exists. Which means that for them, she's become another useless fact. Which is what we want."

Sam still wasn't sure he understood what the point was, but he followed the archangel through the market square because he was almost convinced that Samael had designed this level of Hell, which meant that if anyone understood it and how to work it to their advantage, it would be him.

The market square reminded Sam more of the inside of a mall than a market square. They appeared to be outside, rather than inside, but there was a fountain and there were no people anywhere other than inside the stalls that framed the space.

Samael led Sam to a building with a sign that read, 'Information'.

Sam wondered if there was a reason for the building to be so obvious. Then again, the torture wasn't about being unable to find the location, and knowing you were in the right place might add to the punishment. To know you were in the place of information learning and being unable to learn that which you desired to know.

"Follow my lead," the archangel whispered. "I have information if someone can tell me where Hellhounds come from."

"They're mammals," someone answered. "Live birth. What is the origin of humanity?"

"They were created, just like everyone else. I want to know about the Alpha Hellhound, Ramsey."

"You created this Hell, don't you know you won't learn anything useful here?"

Sam turned around, already reaching for the demon killing knife. _He knew that voice._ "Crowley," he growled.

"Hello, Moose. It's a pleasure, as always."

"So you're the little upstart who stole my name!"

"Not like you were using it well!"

It looked to Sam like the archangel was about to lunge for the demon. He didn't really want to get in the middle of that, but at the same time, there were more important things than egos.

"And what do you know about Ramsey?" Sam asked.

"Lucifer's Alpha Hellhound? She's held deep in Limbo, not far from the cage. Good job, Moose, bringing about the one thing that puts everyone in danger."

 _Don't react,_ Sam thought. It hadn't been so bad in the end, and Gabriel had never been happier. That was worth something. It had to be.

"You don't get to talk about my brother that way."

Sam winced, glancing away as Samael actually punched Crowley in the face. He had been afraid the archangel was going to smite the demon, but he heard the distinct sound of bone breaking instead.

"He's not worth it, Samael," Sam said. "Let's go find Ramsey."

"I know the way." The archangel swallowed then reached for Sam's shoulder.

* * *

The flying this time was less abrasive than entering Hell the first time.

"You know the apocalypse wasn't really your fault, right?" Samael asked after they landed. "It wasn't. It was God's. Seems that the love Mikha and Heylel share didn't fit into the plan as He wanted it. That He really didn't want us, or humans, to have their free will, in the end. But they deserve to be happy, Sam. And you deserve to be happy. Nothing else matters."

"After everything I've done, do I really?"

"Gabriel loves you, and if you break his heart because you can't see yourself the way the rest of us do, I will hurt you."

"I'm not going to break Gabriel's heart." Sam _loved_ Gabriel, and was sure that as long as the archangel still wanted him, he'd happily stay with him forever. "But I'm sure there's a line to smite me if I did." He gave the archangel a slight smile. "Protective older brothers never change. Let's go rescue an Alpha Hellhound."

Samael nodded, but before either of them could move, they heard baying so loud that the ground beneath their feet shook. As soon as the shaking stopped, the two of them hurried in the direction the sound had been coming from.

It didn't take them long to find the hound chained to the side of a cliff overlooking limbo. They could also see the cage, though it was now empty.

"Easy, Ramsey," Sam whispered as he approached. "We're here to take you back to Lucifer."

The hellhound was easily as tall as a draft horse, but she was lying on the ground and didn't move to snap at Sam as he stepped within reach of her massive jaws.

The chains wouldn't have broken with a normal tool, but Samael and Sam were able to carefully cut the shackles using angel blade and demon killing blade respectively.

"Let's get you home to Heylel," Sam said when they were done. "I bet he'd like to see you again."

Ramsey barked. She stood up, stretching, and then laid down again in front of Sam.

Sam stared at the dog. "Don't you want to go home?" The dog simply stared at him.

"I think she wants you to hop on her back," Samael suggested. "She's no ordinary dog, I'm sure she can bear your weight."

Sam shrugged, but decided not to argue. He climbed on her back. As he wrapped his hands in her fur to keep from falling off, everything went dark.

This time, the feeling of traveling was even worse than Crowley flying him into Hell the first time. It was like riding an upside down roller coaster going downhill and spinning really fast.

There was a thud, and then he was falling and emptying his stomach. And it was still dark.

"Sam!"

Sam recognized the voice, but was still disoriented enough that he couldn't place it and when he turned his head in their direction he still couldn't see. He realized that was because his eyes were closed. He blinked dizzily.

Gabriel was staring at him, grinning happily, but there was also an underlying layer of worry clouding his face. "It's great to see you, but what are you doing _here_ and with a Hellhound? Are you okay?"

"I…" Sam didn't have an answer, instead stumbling forward, stretching his arms out with the intent of hugging Gabriel. He felt emotionally wrought and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes though he couldn't have explained what the matter was.

Gabriel's grin fell, excitement turning entirely to worry as he reached to steady Sam. "Sam? Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Sam still didn't know how to explain what he was feeling, so he decided to start at the beginning. Maybe Gabriel could make sense of it. He hoped so, he _trusted_ Gabriel. "I.. I wanted to do something nice for Heylel and… he'd mentioned missing his Ramsey. Your brother, Samael, helped me, and it was not a bad trip, but…. But we ran into Crowley. The other Crowley, the one that stole your brother's name. And he told us where to find Ramsey, which was good, but he… he started ramming into me about letting Heylel out of the cage. And I _know_ he's wrong because it was for the best, but… but I'm so tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Oh, Samalam," Gabriel whispered. "The apocalypse was _not_ your fault. Neither was the demon blood. Okay? It was _not_ your fault."

Sam whimpered, and Gabriel had to gently lower Sam to the ground as his body went slack. "Sam? Sam!"

Sam was _terrified_. He couldn't breathe and he could feel his heart pounding so hard in his chest that it seemed to want out of his body. The tears he'd been holding back would not be restrained and he knew he was trembling and sweating. He could _feel_ Gabriel trying to get his attention and panicking behind him and that only made it harder to breathe.

Black spots danced at the edge of his already black vision. Was this was dying felt like? He didn't want to die. He might have been too tainted to deserve the archangel, but that didn't mean he wasn't greedy. He _loved_ Gabriel, didn't want to lose him, even though he didn't deserve any kindness from him. At least if he was going to die then he couldn't do anything that might jeopardize the archangels.

"Gabriel? What did you do? No, move, I think your panic is worsening his."

There was motion as the speaker knelt beside him. Sam curled up further because despite the nausea welling in his stomach he didn't _want_ to be helped. He just wanted to live out the consequences of his actions. As he deserved.

"Sam, I need you to inhale for me. You're suffering from a panic attack and I need you to breathe, okay?"

It felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest, but he opened his mouth and forced himself to breathe in. He wanted to breathe, didn't want to lie on the ground suffocating.

"That's good, Sam. Can you hold your breath for a count of ten and then exhale?"

Sam followed the directions. The black spots in the dark faded, but the terror hadn't dispitated yet. If he was in the middle of a panic attack, that made sense.

A second later there was something warm and soft brushed against his hands. His hands tightening instinctively around the fur. _He missed Bones._

"That's it, Sam. Just keep breathing."

There was silence for a minute or two while Sam focused on breathing.

"Sam, do you know where you are?"

He had no idea where he was. He knew who he was with, Raphael, Gabriel, and Ramsey, but he had no idea where the hellhound had brought him. Did he really want to know? Hellhounds carried souls into Hell, what if it had brought him to the punishment he deserved for the wrongs he'd committed? His breath hitched again and what little terror had dissipated came back tenfold. Had the archangels joined him and Ramsey in Hell because this was it?

"No, no, I didn't ask you to stop breathing again. Ramsey brought you up to Heaven and I just wanted to see if you knew that because not knowing where you care can cause greater panic. I'm sorry, maybe I should have thought that through better."

A hand rubbed his back. Gabriel's. "I'm sorry I scared you. I just wanted to tell you that I love you and that you are so much more than the things that have been done to you."

Sam sniffled and reached for Gabriel. He just wanted to be held and loved.

Gabriel held Sam until after the remains of the panic attack faded. Sam didn't fall asleep, enjoying Gabriel's company too much for that.

When Raphael deemed Sam suitably recovered he said, "Are you ready to return Ramsey to Heylel?"

Sam blinked, finally remembering there was a reason he was there in the first place. "Yeah. I'd like that."

The human climbed out of Gabriel's lap. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but Gabriel was right there to support him.

"Ramsey? Find Heylel," Raphael said.

The hellhound barked and took off. Sam and Gabriel had to jog to keep up.

"Ramsey!" Heylel shouted when they were in a hallway up a flight of stairs. "Who's the good girl? Who is it?"

Ramsey bounded forward, and knocked Heylel over as she enthusiastically licked her master.

"That's right! You's the good girl, uh huh, uh huh." Heylel laughed, reaching to scratch her chin. Ramsey kept licking Heylel, her entire body wiggling with the force of her wagging tail. She woofed happily at him.

Sam blinked at Heylel and Ramsey. In that moment, he didn't see an archangel and a vicious supernatural creature. He saw a boy, albeit a pregnant boy, and his dog, too long separated. _The demon had been wrong. So wrong._ Lucifer, Heylel, might not have technically been a child anymore, but Sam would have bet his last dollar that he _had_ been a child when he'd been cast out of heaven. _No one deserved that, and he especially didn't deserve people insisting he_ go back _without evaluating whether or not it had even been the right punishment in the first place._ Both statutes of limitation and time served had to mean _something._

"Sam? Are you okay?"

Sam breathed, inhale then exhale. "Yeah… Gabe? Can you take me home?"

"Of course."

Sam wasn't entirely sure how they came to be standing at what must have been the edge of Heaven, but they were. He and Gabe were standing with their backs to the front gate, and Mikha and Heylel were standing across from them, a few feet away. Ramsey laid at the feet of Heylel and Mikha, big sheepdog that she appeared to be.

"You don't have to come with us," Gabriel was saying. "I'm sure I can see Sam safely home myself."

"I just wanted to thank him for bringing Ramsey back," Heylel said. "It means a lot to me, Sam."

Sam shrugged it off. "It was nothing, I'm glad she's welcome."

"Of course she's welcome!" Mikha smiled. "Anything for my mate."

Gabriel licked Sam's cheek. It wasn't any kind of kiss, it was literally a tongue. Sam blinked in confusion at his archangel.

"You're mine," Gabriel stage whispered. And then louder, to Heylel, "I licked him, he's mine."

Mikha rolled his eyes and Heylel said, "I.. didn't want him?"

"Good, that's good." Mikha leaned forward to kiss Heylel's ear. "You're mine and I don't share."

"Okay, time to go," Gabriel said.

As they were about to leave, Sam saw Samandriel running towards Michael, his small wings fluttering in agitation such that it looked more like he was bouncing than either running on the ground or flying. Tears were streaming down his face.

And then they were gone, flying out of Heaven. This was a better flight than flying with Crowley or Ramsey and Sam took a moment to appreciate the fact that his stomach did not feel the need to exit his body.

"Sam, you're back! You can't just leave for weeks without a note! It's not cool!"

Sam blinked at his brother. "What? No, I was just gone a few hours, running and errands…

"Nope. Today is May the first. Next time you decide to take a vacation in Hell, please leave a note. I was worried sick."

Dean walked over and hugged Sam. "I was really worried until Cas told me you were alive and well and just babysitting another archangel."

"It was fun, but our Crowley is a dick."

"And if it would make you feel better, we can shoot him with the colt if he sticks his nose where it doesn't belong."

Sam appreciated the words. They couldn't really act on it in reality, but it was a soothing proposition. Dealing with the missing two weeks would probably come later. "Thank you. I haven't slept in two weeks, do you mind if I go lay down?"

"No, go right ahead. I'll go pick up some food."

Dean stepped out and Sam laid down. Gabriel sat next to Sam. "We should talk later, but do you want to watch a movie or something before you fall asleep?"

"Sure!" Sam adjusted the gray grace blanket Raphael had given him. He loved how soft and warm all the gifted bedding was.

They watched some cartoon Gabriel put on and it didn't take Sam log to fall asleep in the arms of his archangel. This was peace.


	17. Convergence: Mikha

Gabriel was still around as Sam woke up and the human smiled warily at his boyfriend who was holding a tray of food that smelled delicious.

"Good morning, Samshine. Happy birthday."

Sam's smile faded, and he scowled. "Go 'way." 

"What? Sam-" 

"No, I don't want to celebrate." Gabriel looked like he might question him, so Sam continued. "Gabriel, do you have any idea any idea how many good birthdays I've had in the last 8 years? 4. If you can count John Fucking Winchester dying on my birthday as a good day." Sam blinked, taking a moment to contemplate how fucked up his life was. "Let's go through it, shall we? On my 19th birthday, I got my acceptance letter from Stanford and I wanted to go, so John Fucking Winchester said, 'If you walk out that door, don't you _ever_ come back.' And so I went to Stanford, met Jess, had three nice birthdays. And then what happens? Dad goes missing and Dean shows up. And you know what happened on my 23rd birthday? John chewed me out for not shooting him with the colt when Azazel possessed him. And you know what? I actually regret not doing it, because the next day, Dean almost died. The only reason he didn't was because Dad worked something out so he died instead. So I guess that was almost an okay week. But it only goes downhill from there, because the next year, I died and woke up from a death that should have stuck to find out that my brother had sold his fucking soul, and he didn't get a full ten years, no, Gabe, he got one that would irrevocably end, again, on my birthday. And then, also on my birthday, Dean died, for all I knew, permanently gone. And do you know what happened _the next year after that?!_ Dean decides to repeat, _word for word,_ the phrase John uttered kicking me out. And then I killed Lilith and let Lucifer out of the cage. Which I guess ended up being for the best, but it still _hurt_!"

"Oh, Sam," Gabriel whispered. "I'm _so sorry._ No birthdays it is." He put the tray of food down on the side table. "Scoot over, I'm going to lay down next to you."

Sam didn't have the energy to tell him to go away, so he just shifted and as soon as Gabriel had laid down on the bed, curled up against the warm archangel.

At some point Sam had remade the bed with just the grace bedding Gabriel's brothers had given him so far. Gabriel carefully wrapped around his intended the blanket Mikha and Heylel had carefully crafted for him. He shifted Sam in his arms, cuddling him, and then folded his wings around Sam. Sam whined, but he did not think it was a protest. "I swear that there will be no more bad birthdays," he declared to the sleeping form.

Sam woke up from his second nap feeling absolutely famished. He nosed towards the solid shape next to him. "Gabe?" he croaked.

"I'm right here, Sam."

"Is that breakfast still warm?"

"Yep!" Gabriel reached for it and they shifted so Sam was sitting upright with the tray in his lap.

The tray contained pancakes and some slices of fruit cut into bite sized pieces. Sam at it slowly. It was as delicious as it smelled.

"Is there anything you want to do today?" Gabriel asked.

Sam shrugged. What he really wanted was a quiet day, but he wasn't sure beyond that. He didn't want to dwell on the date, but he also wanted some alone time to process the last fortnight. "I didn't have anything specific in mind."

Sam slipped away as soon Gabriel's back was turned because as much as he loved that his archangel wanted to spend time with him, the fact that he was cognizant of the fact that it was his birthday made it hard to stick around. So with a word that he was going outside for a second to get some fresh air, he slipped outside, and _ran._

Jogging always cleared his head. It was like meditating, but a little easier because he could focus on the sound of his feet evenly hitting the concrete instead of the oppressive silence he would have been trying to create inside his head.

Sam loved Gabriel and enjoyed spending time with him, but he just _had_ to clear his head. He didn't want to think about how it this day was an anniversary of other bad things that happened throughout his life.

Out of breath, Sam stopped running. He wasn't _tired_ , per se, but he had no idea what he wanted.

Looking around, Sam realized he had no idea where he was or how to get back to the motel from here. There seemed to be a coffee shop across the street though, and at the very least he could get a glass of water and ask for directions.

As he stepped inside the coffee shop, he heard the distinct sound of wingbeats right behind him, the set he recognized as Michael's because there was always an extra hesitation between the first beat and the second one when the eldest archangel landed.

"Michael," he greeted, even before he turned his head to confirm who he was greeting. "What brings you out here?"

"I was hoping for a bite to eat," the archangel said. "And I wanted to thank you for returning Heylel's pet."

Sam shrugged. "You're welcome?" He continued moving into the coffeeshop and let the archangel select a place for them to sit. "Do you want anything specific?"

Michael considered. "Chocolate. And something salty. With pistachios."

There was nothing that any of the archangels could have said that would have dissuaded Sam from his belief that Michael was pregnant, but he wasn't going to say anything about that because doing so would be rude.

He bought the salted chocolate bar, a chocolate cupcake, and pistachio gelato, and he paid for it with money in his wallet he couldn't recall the source of. He also got a chai tea for himself and a brownie.

"But, Sam, I wanted a blueberry muffin."

Sam got Michael the blueberry muffin, and the oatmeal raisin cookie, and the barista probably thought they were insane but there was no way that Sam was going to tell Gabriel's older brother no.

Michael stared at all the food Sam had procured for him and his lip quivered.

Sam reached for Michael's hand. "Michael, can you tell me what's wrong? I'm not sure how to help if I don't know what the matter is."

"I'm not sure," Michael said quietly. "We know for sure that Heylel is pregnant, but my own body seems to have decided to mimic some of Heylel's symptoms."

Sam was _really confused_ about angel biology and their biological sexes (weren't they genderless?), but he wasn't sure that it would be polite conversation to ask _why_ Michael had not considered the possibility that _he_ was (also?) pregnant.

Sooner or later it would be straightened out, Sam was sure. And he could put up with Michael's weird eating habits until that time because _you did not make anyone who might be pregnant angry_. Never.

"I think it'll work out, either way," Sam said. "And there's nothing wrong with giving your body what it wants in the meantime." He looked at the collection of pastries on the table between them. "What do you want to eat the most?"

Michael leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, which her folded on the table. "I seem to have lost my appetite. I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam sighed, but not in irritation. "Michael-"

"Why won't you call me Mikha? It's my given name."

"I'm sorry, Mikha. Mikha, I'm sorry if this is an intrusive question, and please don't feel obligated to answer, but, have you considered that you might be suffering some of Heylel's symptoms because you _yourself_ are also pregnant?"

"I can't be pregnant!" Michael's exclamation drew strange looks, but if anything, the archangel just looked sad. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout." Michael looked at Sam, but the archangel took a moment to think about what he meant. "That's not to say that I wouldn't love that with every ounce of my being. If Rafa was more familiar with how our anatomies work and less likely to associate it with a past trauma, maybe I would ask, but as it stands, I don't think that my anatomy is capable of child bearing, or so I've been told." He sighed. "Heylel and I want our own children so much, Sam, and Heylel is currently very much in love with carrying our child, and I don't want to do _anything_ that might detract from that. _It's my job to take care of them_."

Sam picked up one of the chocolate brownies and broke it in half with his fingers. "If you stress yourself out, you won't be able to keep them safe." He pushed half the brownie forward to the archangel. He could understand the need to keep one's family safe. That was Dean to a T. "Eat the brownie, Mikha."

"I can see why Gabriel likes you."

Sam frowned. He hoped Gabriel wasn't too worried about him.

"I told Gabriel I was monopolizing your time getting snacks for Heylel," Michael said. "So he's a little less worried about you getting into trouble, but he is also a little worried about why you ran off."

Sam swallowed and took a sip of his water. "Today is my birthday, and I might not have remembered except Gabe brought it up, and Dean's the only one who has ever tried to remember, so it's mostly the anniversary of bad things happening rather than a day to rejoice."

"Today should be a good day." Michael nodded mysteriously to himself. "I don't know when my birthday is, but I tried to make the creation day of the other archangels as good as I was able. My children will have birthday and birthday parties and know joy."

"They should." Sam drank some more water. "Gabriel and Cas have talked about angelic mate bonds a little, but I was wondering if you could tell me more about that." He did his best to look casual rather than hopeful.

"You'd be better off talking to Gabriel. I don't know a lot. The main kind of mate bond finishes forming when the relationship is consummated. Our kind doesn't really do marriage in the modern human way."

"Consummation of marriage is an archaic human custom, and the emphasis on all parties being virginal was significant." Sam's brow furrowed with concern. "Is waiting to have sex until you've decided to have a mate bond a significant angelic custom?"

"No? I'm sorry, I don't think I've explained it right. Another kind of relationship we have translates as bed-mates? There is less emotional connection and usually no children?"

Sam blinked. "Does Enochian distinguish between the act of sex as a means of reproduction and sex for any other reason? That sounds like a one night stand kind of thing."

"I've never had a one night stand, so I wouldn't know. I suppose I can't see why it would preclude a mate-bond if emotional connection formed later. Mate-bonds don't necessitate children, either, though. Rafa's Sami was the first fledgling born to angels and he's the only fledgling in Heaven right now, but I don't know of any fledglings born since then."

Hearing Mikha bring up Raphael's fledgling reminded Sam that he had been crying when they had left Heaven. "Is Sami okay?" he asked. "He looked so upset last night."

Michael sighed sadly. "He's fine, physically. But he started babbling about a scared and hungry injured fledgling and it was near impossible to console him." The archangel frowned. "He talks to Heylel's unborn child, babbles about how happy and healthy they're going to be. But this was different. He didn't want to be soothed or held. Samael gave him some cookies eventually, I don't know why, maybe to see if he could be bribed into calming down. He wouldn't eat it though, just climbed into my lap, still sniffling, and made me eat it instead."

"If there _were_ other fledglings outside of Heaven, would Sami have any connection to them?"

"Sami is four or five thousand years old, and under perfect circumstances, should have been fully grown by now. But he's not. The nephilim of old were always more powerful than their celestial parent, but as there are no other archangel children in existence, we have no way of knowing what to expect from one. It's possible I'm overlooking something, but I _don't_ know."

Sam didn't quite understand how one failed to know if any second generation fledglings existed outside of Heaven, but he decided not to ask because Michael seemed to already feel as guilty about it as he needed to. Intent on changing the subject, he decided to mention the cambion they had met.

"Do you know of the cambion, Jesse Turner? Cas called him the antichrist."

"I had not heard." Michael considered the revelation. "Do you think I can meet him? I don't mean any harm, but he will likely need some lessons in control and _please can I meet him,_ Sam?"

"He didn't want anything to do with us and ran away, but I guess if you want to go looking for him, I'm not going to stop you. Cas said he more or less disappeared off the face of the Earth though, so I wish you luck."

"I will find him! But not right now, because that triple chocolate chip cookie looks _delicious._ "

As the archangel licked his lips and ravaged the cookie he was referring to, Sam couldn't help but wonder if maybe the archangel was lying to himself. He wasn't going to bring it up again any time soon because the archangel had already said exactly what he thought, but that didn't mean Sam wasn't going to keep _some_ eye on him. If Michael spent every ounce of his energy taking care of his mate and the rest of Heaven, _who took care of Michael?_

"Unless there was anything else you wanted to talk about," Sam began, "I think maybe it's about time for me to head back to Gabriel. But I got a little lost walking out here, could you give me some directions?"

Michael waved a hand and all the leftover desserts packed themselves neatly into a very large doggy bag for Sam. "I can fly you back. Unless you would prefer to walk?"

"Sure."

The flight back to the motel was not as disconcerting as the trip to Hell with Samael, but it was not as smooth as flying with either Castiel or Gabriel. Sam attributed that to the obvious delay in the second wing. "Did you suffer an injury to one of your wings?" Sam asked curiously as he opened the motel door.

Michael tilted his head. "Yeah… how did you know?"

Sam shrugged. "I can hear the delay when it moves, I think. I hope it feels better." He watched as the archangel disappeared, and then walked inside. Gabriel was sitting at the table inside, a grocery bag in front of him. "Hey, Gabe."

Gabriel turned to look at him, then stood up. "I'm not sure how you did it, but Mikha and Heylel has spoken that you're going to be apart of our flock regardless of where our relationship goes. Which I think means they're going to disown me if I break your heart. Not that I was planning on doing that, because _I love you, Sam._ "

Sam put the doggy bag on the table and then embraced Gabriel. "I love you too," he said, planting a kiss on the archangel's cheek. "If you're not too busy, can we sit and talk?"

There was a touch of worry in Gabriel's amber eyes, but he nodded. "Of course."

The hunter sat cross legged on his bed, Gabriel sitting across from him. Sam scratched nervously at his wrist while he tried to figure out how to say exactly what he needed to say. "I asked Michael about the mate-bond because you and Cas have talked about it a little, but not in great detail and I had wanted to get some clarification in case I was misunderstanding."

"Understandable," Gabriel agreed. "Did it help?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed. "When you were talking about how Raphael was almost scandalized by Michael and Heylel consummating their mate bond, I was under the impression that that meant that they were both virgins before that."

"They may have been, but I don't think that matters a lot because I think the mate bond is more dependent on trust and honesty between all the consenting adults involved."

Sam winced. "I'm not a virgin, you know that, right? And the last person I had sex with was Ruby, _a demon_ , and in retrospect it was gross and disgusting and thinking about it makes my skin crawl, but _I did_."

"Oh, _Sam_ ," Gabriel whispered, understanding dawning on his face. "I thank you for your honesty, but you have _nothing_ to feel ashamed about. The demon blood was _not_ your fault. Ruby was a manipulation and temptation that you _did not_ deserve and it changes _nothing_ between us." He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Sam's torso and kissing his temples. "I love you and accept you for who you are, Sam, and I will spend the rest of our lives telling you that, even if you won't believe me."

Sam leaned into Gabriel's embrace. Maybe this was what the road to forgiveness felt like. Maybe if Gabriel still loved him despite it, he could love _himself_ despite his flaws. Maybe… maybe this hadn't been so terrible a birthday after all.


	18. Convergence: Aziraphale

To say that Sam _liked_ the bedding the archangels had given him was an understatement. The blanket and pillow from Heylel and Michael matched, a double sided fleece blanket that was dark blue on one side and a soft brown on the other. The pillow from Castiel was yellow and black with a honeycomb pattern. And Raphael's was a soft neutral gray. All the bedding had the same texture. It was soft, but not quite fleece, and everything was thick. Castiel had said that at least the one he had given Sam had been made with molted angel feathers, which made him think of down bedding. Except way nicer than anything humans had the capacity to make.

Sam was dwelling on the bedding at that moment because as soon as they had come into the new motel room, Dean had more or less stripped the second bed, piling _all_ the mortal bedding onto the one that he had claimed for himself. "You have that pile of weird angel blankets, use that. This is all _mine_."

So much like he had been, Sam went ahead and made the second bed using just the archangel given bedding, and then he climbed under the almost _nest_ because it was warm and nice, so why shouldn't he? Dean was nowhere to be found, as per the usual, and he wasn't _tired_ now, he just wanted to bask. So bask he did.

Sam got his five minutes of quiet peace.

"Hey, Samalam, I got you a present!"

Sam climbed out from under the pile of blankets. "Gabe? What do you want?"

"I noticed that my brothers all decided you needed a ridiculous amount of bedding, so I got you a bag of holding to put it in! It's double sided, one for you bedding and one for your books. And since you're so loathfully lacking in anything good to read, I got your collection off to a start with all of my favorites! We have here one boxed set of Artemis Fowl, one Complete Works of Shakespeare, Alice Through the Looking Glass, American Gods by Neil Gaiman, and Charlotte's Web."

Sam's jaw dropped as he eyed the first edition copies of books he'd read, heard of, loved, or had been dying to read. "Gabriel… you didn't have to."

"But I wanted to! No stealing my fun!" The archangel sauntered over and joined Sam on the bed. "Go on then, what do you think?"

The hunter took the proffered books one at a time, running is fingers across the covers as though they might disappear at any moment. But they didn't, and he flipped gently through a few pages before setting it down gently and taking the next. "Gabriel, _thank you_."

"You're welcome! Okay, now for the bag of holding."

Gabriel handed Sam what at first glance appeared to be a duffle bag. It had a zipper down the middle, extending across three sides of the bag. "Go on, open it! It opens like a book."

With a raised eyebrow, Sam unzipped Gabriel's supposed "bag of holding". He'd played enough D&D in college to know _exactly_ what that was, but he couldn't figure out why Gabriel would refer to a simple duffle bag in that way. A place for all his bedding and all the books he ever wanted? That sounded just a _little_ too good to be true.

The unzipped duffle bag looked like the inside of a suitcase. There was a thin covering over the left side and another over the right, so it was impossible to tell whether or not there was anything already inside the duffle. He leaned forward to brush aside one of the coverings.

"I don't recommend falling inside, I didn't include a ladder."

Sam unfastened the covering of the side on the left. It didn't _look_ bottomless. But if Gabriel said it was, he probably wasn't lying. He put the set of Artemis Fowl books inside to see what would happen. They seemed to fall down into the duffle, but he couldn't _see_ them clearly. "How do I get them back?" he asked.

"You reach inside and pull them out? It shouldn't be difficult."

"If you're sure." Sam wasn't sure whether or not he believed the archangel, but he reached inside to see if that was the case.

"Oh! Have you ever been to the Library of Congress? I have some business to attend to in DC, I could drop you off?"

"That would be awesome!"

Sam barely had time to pull his arm out of the duffle bag before they were flying. _Could he have lost an arm?_

The duffle bag was still in his hand when they landed inside what must have been the Library of Congress. But it was zipped shut and nothing appeared out of the ordinary with it.

"I'll be back, see you later?" Gabriel asked.

"Of course!" Sam had barely finished speaking before the Messenger was gone in a flurry of wing beats.

Sam explored the library. It had a vast collection in a multitude of languages and was the biggest library he had ever seen, by a large margin. Which made sense, if he remembered anything about how the collection was still expanding.

There was a list in his pocket, some things Dean wanted him to research about their next possible case. The resources this library contained was endless, and since he was here, he just _had_ to use it.

Hours passed and Gabriel hadn't returned yet. With the closing of the library approaching, he went to see exactly how one would go about checking out books. It might as well have been the national library, after all.

But no. Checking out books from the library was expressly forbidden to anyone who was not a high ranking government official, and it sucked.

He returned to the table he'd been working at to find that someone else had taken a seat there. The blonde man sitting across from where Sam had been working seemed perfectly average, though it seemed that he was wearing an expensive shirt underneath his long coat.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam had thought he might know who the person was, but it was the lilting British accent that gave it away. _Aziraphale._ "Hello."

"I was wondering if you might help me? Crowley helped me move my collection of books to Heaven, but there's a lot of books here I haven't had the pleasure of reading and I thought you might be inclined to help me abscond with them? There's two copies of most of them, so you could take your pick of them."

"I would love to help!" His conscience was probably supposed to be telling him that stealing was wrong, but this was an archangel asking _him_ to help steal from a library and he honestly wanted to be involved with that. Why wouldn't he? "Gabriel gave me a bag of holding earlier, do you think we should put everything in there?"

"I think that would do the trick. Everyone is in the process of leaving now, I can turn the power in this building off so you can clean the shelves off into the bag." The archangel stood. "The name's Aziraphale, but I assume you've guessed that already."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Aziraphale. I was hoping I'd get to meet you."

The archangel snapped his fingers, darkening the building. There was a soft red glow from the emergency lights and emergency exit signs.

"I say we have about thirty minutes. Just clear everything into the bag, I'll help."

They cleared all the shelves of all the rooms into the duffle bag Sam had brought and the weight of the bag never changed. Just like a real bag of holding. What had Gabriel even _done_ to the duffle bag that it worked like this?

They finished clearing the entirety of the Library of Congress into the bag of holding before the police ever showed, but Sam was certain that the archangel had to of used some grace to make the process go faster.

"What now?" Sam asked, when they were safely a few blocks away and no one suspected anything.

"Now? Sam, Sam. Now we sort the manuscripts. Come on!"

The archangel and the human ended up in a room in a hotel that Sam couldn't help but belief was the fanciest hotel in existence. The room was cleaner than any hotel room Sam had ever stayed in. There were no questionable stains on the nice grey carpet or the stainless beige walls. The furniture was expensive, a matching headboard, dresser, two bedside tables, and a king sized bed Sam would have guess to be the most comfortable ever.

He frowned. "Why this luxurious hotel?"

"I happen to like it. And Gabriel insisted."

Of course Gabriel had insisted. Sam was surprised the archangel never complained about the flea-ridden holes in walls that Dean always selected when they were hunting because they were cheap and out of the way.

"Lets sort those books. You can keep whatever you want."

"But, don't you not like parting with your books?"

Aziraphale smiled. "Did you not see how many books we collected? Go on, take what you want. I trust you to take care of them."

Pouring the books from the bag of holding and onto the bed was not possible. So they tried taking a handful each to sort.

Sam knew he wanted the lore materials for researching their hunts. Azi opened the first book he came across and starting reading it instead of making a decision and Sam enjoyed the one section of the lore book so much he had to read more of it.

"I have the declaration of independence!" There was no response to Samael's exclamation because Sam and Aziraphale were so deeply enthralled in the books they were reading they didn't notice when he appeared, scroll in one hand and red pen in the other.

"Hey! Angel!"

Aziraphale looked up. "Hello, Crowley."

"I heard someone stole the entirety of the Library of Congress. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"They didn't deserve it. Not if they weren't going to share," Sam argued, not looking up from the novel he'd fallen into and was enjoying immensely.

"But you can't just take it from them. Couldn't you have duplicated it instead?"

"And where would the fun have been in doing that?" Aziraphale asked. "We are having so much fun."

Samael rolled his eyes. "As long as you're having fun." He walked towards the bed. "Find anything worth reading?"

"Did you want to read something specific?" Sam asked, reaching for the duffle bag.

"Anything will do. Although I'm always fond of prophets who think they're writing fiction."

"You can't have the Winchester Gospels."

"Already read them. Surely you can think of something more creative than that."

"We'll see." Sam reached inside the duffle and then poked his head inside because it felt like a giant swimming pool inside a backpack.

That's about what it looked like. There was almost not gravity inside the bag and the books were aimlessly floating around the inside of the duffle bag.

Sam wondered how hard it would be to build shelves along the edges with the fancy moving ladders.

"See anything?" he heard Aziraphale asked.

He saw so many books. How was he supposed to know what he was looking for beyond that?He had no idea how to determine what had been written by a prophet or would be interesting to an infinitely ancient archangel. There was no list of prophets in his head as there had been in Castiel's.

Before he could select a title to show Crowley, a streak of yellow crossed the edge of his vision. It was not a book, appearing instead to be threads. He turned his head, eye attracted to movement.

Sam found himself face to face with a gigantic golden retriever shaped body pillow that was more realistic than any he had seen before. He reached for it, shocked by how soft the fur of the dog was.

He leaned back, tugging the plush towards himself as he backed out of the duffle bag. "Aziraphale," he said, trying to keep his voice from breaking with _want_. "Did you steal someone's toy?"

"What? No. Only books. Why?"

"So why is this here?" He put the pillow on the bed even though he wanted nothing more than to keep her in his lap. But she didn't belong to him, wasn't his.

"I'm not sure, Sam. Does she have a tag?"

Sam didn't didn't move to check because he knew that if he touched her he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to keep her.

Aziraphale was on the side of the dog nearest the head, so he examined the blue color around her neck. As he shifted it, a small envelope fell out. "Sam Winchester," the archangel read. "I do believe this is yours." He held out the envelope towards Sam.

He hesitated. He wanted to read it, but he was also afraid it wasn't real. Every day of the fantastical life of a courtship with an archangel he loved and meeting Gabriel's siblings was one day closer to the possibility that none of this was real and he honestly didn't want that day to come.

"Sam," Aziraphale said quietly. "The letter hasn't been tampered with. Just read it."

Better to read it now than to build his hopes up and be disappointed about it, Sam decided and tore it open.

Inside the envelope was a piece of pale yellow stationary. The handwriting was beautiful and full of serifs written in bright gold ink. There was a red bow at the top with the ribbon continuing around all the borders of the paper.

"Dear Sam," the letter read. "I saw this stuffed dog at a store and instantly thought of you. I know you love dogs, and while your current lifestyle isn't really stable enough to support a pet, I wanted to get this for you as a promise. I love you, Sam, and someday I will give you a real dog. Today might not be that day, but n the meantime, have this life size plushie as a symbol of my promise."

Sam blinked. "Mine?" he asked, reaching to touch the soft fur of the pillow.

"All my brothers are saps," Crowley lamented. "Where is my book?"

"You can read this one." Aziraphale charitably handed over the book he had been reading. "Would anyone like a glass of wine?"

Crowley agreed vocally and Sam nodded after Aziraphale had poured a glass for Crowley and another for himself.

Sam sipped the wine slowly, fingers still scratching the body of the dog. She was _his_. It didn't matter right now that she wasn't real. He had _a_ dog.

"Where's Gabriel?" he asked suddenly, awhile later when he was on his second glass of wine.

"I think he'll drop by soonishly," Crowley answered, looking up from the book he was reading.

"Oh! That means it's time for presents!" Aziraphale snapped, refilling their wine glasses and summoning a package wrapped with blue wrapping paper.

"I heard that the other archangels didn't wrap theirs so I wrapped mine because tearing the wrapping paper is the best part."

Sam took the offered present and carefully untaped it so he could open it. The first item Sam pulled out was a folded blanket. It was as soft as the rest of the archangel given bedding and both sides were the same shade of green as Dean's eyes. There was also a pillow of the same color. Underneath the bedding there was a book.

"I was just going to let you borrow a copy because I trust you to treat books well, but I realized a copy you can keep might be more useful to you."

Sam gave the book a closer examination. "A basic encyclopedia of the Enochian Language?"

Aziraphale nodded. "I thought you might be interested in learning it."

"Oh, absolutely! Thank you!"

"Hey! I thought we were just giving Sam bedding!"

Aziraphale turned his head, smirking. "But I had to out do you, you're about to give him the best bedding."

"You were supposed to accept your defeat gracefully!"

"Not on your life!"

Sam swallowed a mouthful of wine. He was still feeling pretty clear headed and wouldn't have minded being just a little bit tipsier for this. He didn't want to get plastered, or drunk, but a little tipsier would have been better.

"Crowley? Can I see what you made for me?" Sam didn't want to be stuck listening to the two of the archangels bickering about who had brought him the better present when he appreciated absolutely everything all the archangel had given to him. He'd never been in a position to have bedding that actually belonged to him and it was _nice_.

Crowley pouted. "But Aziraphale gave you nice bedding and an awesome book!"

Sam sighed. They were children. They really were. And he really didn't want to deal with this, but someone obviously had to. "Samael, in February, do you know how much bedding I had ever owned in my entire life, that was _mine_?"

The archangel known both as Crowley and Samael shrugged. "How much?"

"Absolutely none. I even had to borrow linens when I was in college because I couldn't afford to buy an entire bed set. I don't mind that you've all given me blankets and pillows. They're all different colors and they're all warm and soft and I love all of them."

"Really?" Crowley asked, looking dubious.

Sam nodded sagely. "Mhmm. So you should come here and show me what color you picked out."

Crowley walked over, a stack of bedding appearing in his own hands as he approached. "I thought you would appreciate this color."

Sam grinned sappily. This blanket and pillow set was an amber whiskey color that matched Gabriel's eyes and they were _absolutely gorgeous._ He hadn't been lying about how nice all of the archangel bedding was, but _this set_ , this set was the best color.

He allowed himself to take another sip of his wine. There was a warm feeling in his belly that could probably be attributed to the wine, but he was also _happy,_ and the only thing missing was Gabriel. Where was the love of his life?

"Gabriel?"

"He's not back yet. Do you want to help me finish sorting the books?" Aziraphale asked.

Sam shook his head. He liked the golden amber bedding, but it wasn't what he wanted to look at right that second. He _wanted_ Gabriel.

He blinked and the room seemed to tilt sideways. Had he'd had more to drink than he'd thought? " _Gabriel_."

Why was he sad? He wasn't _alone_. Aziraphale and Crowley were here. Gabriel would come back, or so Aziraphale kept saying.

"I'll put the bedding in your duffle for you," Crowley said, sidestepping around Sam.

"Okay…" Sam's voice sounded far away to his ear and the glass in his hand felt much too heavy. Was he drunk? It had been a good long while since the last time he'd been drunk. He associated the loss of control with the feeling of having been possessed and he didn't like it.

What if Gabriel wasn't coming back and the archangels had plied him with alcohol so he would forget?

He sniffed. He wanted Gabriel.

There was a hand on his elbow, and he found Crowley guiding him back to the bed. He didn't resist. Maybe he should? He wasn't sure.

"Please sit down, Sam. Gabriel confirmed that he's on his way back. But I'm not sure why you're all worked up."

Sam wasn't sure why he was either. But the alcohol probably had something to do with it. Why had Gabriel told Samael and Aziraphale that he was on his way back and not _Sam_?

The stuff toy golden retriever ended up in Sam's lap. It was so soft, and Sam thought it smelled exactly like Gabriel.

Sam lost track of time, but Gabriel's arrival in the room was far from quiet. "There you are, Sam! I was wondering where you'd gone."

Sam tilted his head, which made the room rotate even more. "Aziraphale wanted to steal the Library of Congress and said this room was your idea." His lip quivered as he recalled that Azi had used the word _insisted_. "I'm sorry the bug infested rooms Dean rents aren't good enough for an archangel."

Sam's voice was honest. Any significant other he might have had deserved better than what he could provide, but Gabriel was an _archangel._ One who deserved so much more than he capable of providing.

"Sam…" For a moment, the archangel's vessel seemed to age ten years, _this was it,_ but then he squinted. "Sam, are you drunk?"

"Don't know," he slurred. "Hope not," he added. He didn't want to be drunk. Not after everything he'd been through. "Dad was a drunk. A' mean drunk." The expression on Gabriel's face looked like pain. "'M not!" he added hastily, wondering if that's why Gabriel's expression had looked worried. "Imma sad drunk." He blinked. "Is that why I'm sad?"

"That's… not unlikely." Gabriel sighed. "Sam, do you want me to take you back home?"

Where was home? Sam wondered idly. He grew up sleeping in the impala on the road, but it was more Dean's home than it was his. Dean remembered the home Mary had raised him, but he remembered nothing more than her burning on the ceiling. That wasn't a home either.

Maybe home wasn't a place. Maybe it was family. Gabriel, Castiel, and Dean.

He was so lost in his thoughts that Sam didn't even notice that they were flying until they landed in the motel room Sam had started the day in. Gabriel was holding the duffle bag that presumably contained the new bedding and the books.

"Are you okay?"Gabriel asked. "Would you like some water?"

Now that Gabriel mentioned it, he was thirsty. "Yes please,"he said. What was okay? He must be, he was always fine. "I'm fine,"he said, sitting on _his bed_. Or at least the one with all of his grace bedding on it. He reached for the calming gray pillow Raphael had given him.

"I don't like getting drunk," he told the pillow. It would be a good listener. "Don't like any loss of autonomy. 'Minds me of Ruby. Dean dying. Downward spirals."

Gabriel brought him a glass of water and then urged him away from the pillow so he could drink it. "I love you, Sam Winchester," he said as Sam drank the water. "Do you think you'd be able to sleep?"

"Maybe."

Sam wouldn't let Gabriel help him get ready for bed until after the new blankets and pillows had been added to the collection on his bed, and then they curled up under the covers. Gabriel was snuggled around Sam, who was holding onto the golden retriever body pillow.

And they slept. Nothing needed to be harder than that.


	19. Convergence: Castiel

When Sam woke up, he could hear Gabriel doing something out of sight, probably cooking. His mouth was dry and he really wanted a glass of water, but there was something else he needed to do more.

A dizzy spell hit him when he tried to stand up, but he remembered something he hadn't done in a long time, so when he was sure he could stand up without falling over, he made his way over to where his laptop was sitting on the table.

It didn't take more than a minute to find the webpage of the bank he'd used while attending Stanford, but it did take him exponentially longer to remember what his password was without getting locked out.

It was an account he'd started adding to when he and Jess had started dating, but after she'd died, he'd pretended it had never existed. He hadn't even told Dean about the secret bank account. When one had only exactly what one needed to survive, putting a little aside in the hope of a better future had made sense.

And as he read the five digit account balance, he realized that it had paid off, even if he couldn't spend it on the exact thing he'd originally opened it for. "Hey, Gabriel?" Sam's voice cracked around the duel syllabic name and he swallowed hard. With the passive aggressive gift giving from all of Gabriel's older brothers, and the fact that it felt like he was spending as much time with Gabriel's brothers as with Gabriel, he couldn't help but wonder if he was overstepping his bounds. But who knew what the future held. _Or what Gabriel might think._

The number on the screen blinked, _taunting him._ "Gabriel?" he repeated, louder. With perfect clarity he could recall Gabriel mentioning that Mikha and Heylel had said something about wanting him in their family regardless of how Gabriel's relationship with him went and it made him swallow even harder as he felt _guilt._ "Gabriel, I need to talk to you."

"I'm right here, Samalam." And he was. At some point Gabriel had walked in and was standing directly in front of Sam. Sam didn't think Gabriel had flown, hadn't heard the sound of wings, but he definitely couldn't remember the archangel walking in. "Sam, are you alright?" He was holding a glass of water, but otherwise nothing.

"I love you," Sam stated, reaching, uncertain of whether he was reaching for the cup or for Gabriel himself. "I love your family, but I love you more."

"Sam?" 

"I don't know why all your brothers gave me more bedding than I've ever owned in my life or what they expect from me in return. And I don't know… I don't know why Mikha and Heylel told you that they wanted me to join their flock regardless of whether or not you and I have a mate bond, but I don't want… I'm not trying to replace you. And I need you to know that I'm _not_ cheating on you with Mikha and Heylel, I don't know why Mikha wants to spend so much time in coffee shops, but Gabriel they're _pregnant_ and you _don't tell pregnant people no._ "

Gabriel titled his head. "I'm sorry, Sam, I'm not understanding. Do you think that I think you're cheating on me with Michael and Heylel?" 

"I spend so much time with them, isn't that the logical conclusion? And I want to do something nice for them, they've both been having such a hard time with morning sickness and cravings lately, but I was wondering if you'd think it was too grandiose when I can't even find you a better place to sleep than this."

Gabriel put the glass of water on the table next to the laptop, and then sat down on Sam's lap so that he could hug his beautiful but incredibly confused boyfriend. " _Sam_. You could choose to sleep on the street or in a gutter and I'd still sleep next to you because I _love you_. I don't know what Aziraphale may or may not have said, but it absolutely does not matter to me _at all_ that this is what you currently call home because it's just a _place,_ Sam. You are _flock_. To all of us. That's the most important thing. So why don't you tell me what you were thinking about treating Mikha and Heylel to, and I'll tell you whether or not I think they'd like it?"

Sam sniffled and leaned forward to nuzzle at Gabriel's shoulder. "Do you think they'd like a couple's retreat at a pregnancy spa?"

"I think they would both be absolutely joyed by that kind of a surprise. Why don't you book it for the beginning of June, and I'll clear it with Raph?" Gabriel kissed his boyfriend on the cheek. "Do you want to talk about why you want to do this for them?"

Sam worried his lip, then nodded towards the computer screen. "Jess and I were engaged, and we'd talk about whether or not we wanted children someday (yes) and I read _everything_ I could about pregnancy. And I'd decided, right from the beginning, that even if we couldn't afford a lot, I was going to treat her to a spa day that would be safe for the baby. I know you and I haven't talked about whether or not we want children, but your older brothers _are pregnant_ and I want to do this."

Gabriel hugged Sam. "That's very thoughtful of you."

* * *

The last few weeks of May flew by relatively quickly for Sam. Between hunting with Dean and going on dates with Gabriel, it seemed as though he was always busy with one thing or another. And he'd never been happier. If anything, he couldn't imagine _being_ any happier. This was the life he'd never imagined it was possible to have. He didn't have to choose between hunting and his significant other and he wasn't really putting Gabriel in danger with his hunting lifestyle because Gabriel was an immortal being who could definitely hold his own.

Sam saw plenty of the other archangels too, though Raphael was the one he saw the least of, which made perfect sense to Sam because the healer was likely busy making preparations for the birth of Mikha and Heylel's child, or so Sam assumed.

The archangel he saw the most of was Mikha. Sometimes he was in the company of Heylel, and sometimes by himself, but most of the times he dropped by was to ask Sam to ply him with coffee shop pastries. There would still be no convincing Sam that Mikha wasn't pregnant, but the archangel had seemed a little more emotional lately so Sam had decided that at the very least, he could try to offer what support he could,since it seemed Mikha was convinced he had to single-handedly support the rest of his flock.

It wasn't a surprise and it didn't bother him that he almost never saw Castiel when the archangel was not in the presence of Dean. Even though neither had said anything outright, Sam was about 95% sure they were dating, even if Dean's head was so far up his ass he hadn't figured it out yet. It was none of his business and he didn't care, beyond being happy for his older brother.

What did come as a surprise, was at the end of May when Castiel showed up in the same vicinity as Sam at a time when Sam was sure Cas had just been with Dean.

Sam was sitting at a coffee shop picking through the deserts Mikha had only moments before abandoned in favor of returning to Heaven when Castiel appeared in Mikha's recently vacated spot.

"Cas?" Sam blinked at the archangel. "What brings you by?"

"I asked Dean if he had told you, but his answer was that it was none of your business, one way or the other. I'm inclined to disagree, if only because you and Dean are the human equivalent of _flock_."

Sam was pretty sure he knew what Castiel was talking about, but decided that Castiel would make a lot more sense if he wasn't being so vague. "What isn't any of my business?"

"I am trying to court Dean." Sam raised an eyebrow. He was used to the almost archaic way of speaking most of the archangels used when discussing things like mate bonds and dating. But Cas must have mistaken Sam's raised eyebrow because he said, "Do humans not say that anymore? I meant dating, I think."

"We do call it dating these days, rather than courting. But I think that maybe the difference between the two is significant enough that the word courting would fit."

"Perhaps. Anyway, Dean said your opinion was irrelevant, but angelic tradition insists that it is proper to discuss the developing relationship with the other flock members of the desired mate, especially in cases where the smaller flock is completely joined into the larger flock. Which I guess is the case here because Gabriel isn't the only one who wants you to join our flock."

"Where are you going with this?" Sam thought he understood what Cas was saying, but he wished his friend would speak in clearer terms.

"I want your permission to pursue a matebond with Dean Winchester. Dean as much as said he doesn't need it, but I would ask for your okay."

Archaic relationships. Sam couldn't help but imagine Castiel, or even Gabriel, asking John Winchester for permission to marry his sons and he couldn't help the laughter of hysteria bubbling in his chest.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, finally seeing the hurt expression on Castiel's face. "I'm not laughing at you, and of course you have my permission, even though as Dean said, you don't need it because it's none of my business. I'm laughing because I'm imagining you or Gabriel asking Dad for our hands in marriage, when he'd sooner fry you both in holy oil."

"Wasn't John Winchester not part of your flock, as our father was not part of ours? Michael and our siblings raised all of us, _he's_ the flock leader, with Heylel. Is Dean not _your_ flock leader?"

Sam blinked. "Bobby Singer," he said, almost without realizing it. "He's been more like a parent to us than John ever was."

Cas nodded. "Michael and Heylel mentioned wanting to visit him, I wonder if that's why."

Sam swallowed and scratched at his wrist. When had they last visited Bobby? What if he didn't take the visit from Mikha and Heylel well? He'd liked Cas well enough, but what if he decided he'd had enough of dealing with the apocalypse and divine beings? What if he-

"Sam? Your heart rate and blood pressure have spiked significantly, are you okay?"

Castiel's words cut Sam off from his spiraling train of thought and he blinked at the angel as he tried to calm down. The archangels would have said something before they would have run off to see Bobby. Asked if either of the Winchester boys wanted to go with them. Right? He counted mentally as he tried to get his nerves under control. One. Two. Take a breath. Three. Four. Five. Why did it hurt to breath? If _anything_ had happened, Bobby would have called them. He would have called them. _He hoped_. He had to believe that. His thoughts spiraled. What if he hadn't? What if. What if he couldn't? What if Bobby couldn't call them because something had happened, and he wasn't able to. He couldn't.

The world around him, outside of his own mind became blurred and indistinct.

"Sam?"

"Sorry- I'm sorry." Sam coughed. Bobby hadn't tried to do anything to Mikha and Heylel, had he? Circles of holy fire disoriented the angels at the _best_ of times, what would they do to pregnant archangels? Was that why Mikha's morning sickness had been worse lately? And Heylel-

"What is going on-"

He'd stopped counting. He needed to ground himself. Right? Nine. Ten. Eleven. Try and take another breath. Why couldn't he breath? His lungs didn't seem to be working. His hands felt clammy, his throat was tight. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Nothing seemed to be working. He couldn't. He didn't seem to be able to. His throat began to climb it's way up his throat. Fifteen. Sixteen. He couldn't.

Sam threw up.

Someone had hastily conjured a bucket so Sam did not throw up on the table, but that didn't stop him from sinking down in embarrassment.

"Sam, what happened?" Gabriel asked.

The bucket disappeared and Sam reached for his glass of water while pointedly not looking at his boyfriend. He had no idea when Gabriel had suddenly appeared next to him, but since he'd been the one to speak while he'd been spiraling, probably about then.

What even had happened? Sam wondered. Or at least, what did Gabriel, or Cas, think had happened? "I panicked," he said. "It's fine, I'm fine. You can go back to your Very Important Work."

He missed the time when he'd been able to take anti-anxiety medication, but that was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not without Dean getting unnecessarily involved and he couldn't stand the thought of suffering through more of Dean's distrust. He just _couldn't_.

Gabriel might have said something but Sam wasn't sure. His head felt like it was surrounded by fog and he just felt sick.

"Sam, did you ever have any panic or anxiety attacks before the one in Heaven?"

Sam shrugged. "In college, sure. Jess made me see a psychiatrist and I was on medication for awhile. It helped. But then Jess died and I left Stanford and Dean couldn't _know_."

"So you just went cold turkey off whatever you'd been taking?"

"It was a bad idea," Sam admitted. "But I dealt with it and got through it."

"You shouldn't have had to." Gabriel sighed and took a look at the desserts on the table. "Are you ready to go? Is there anything here you want?"

Sam shook his head. Taking the goodie bags of Mikha's leftovers had started making him feel guilty and he wasn't sure why. "Mikha should have them. And yes, I am ready to go."

Gabriel flew them back to their current motel. Cas was nowhere to be seen and Sam felt guilder about causing him to leave. Sam had landed so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed and he was glad because he was sure that he would have fallen if he'd tried to stand.

"Would you want to talk to Raphael about maybe getting a new medication for your anxiety? I'm sure he could create something that would be designed for your physiology."

Sam shifted and laid back on the bed. What did he want? He didn't necessarily want to need medication to function normally, but he also knew better than to assume he could make the anxiety stop without it. But what would Dean say?

Maybe as long as he told Dean the truth and didn't lie about it, maybe Dean would be happy that he was happy and healthier?

"No promises," Sam said. "But maybe I could just talk to Raphael about it? There's nothing wrong with just talking."

"You're absolutely right about that." Gabriel turned. "Would you be up for babysitting Sami for a few hours? I imagine you're exhausted, but Sami is too and it sounds like he's fighting naptime." Gabriel smiled sadly. "He's been like this for weeks now. He's been going on about lonely and hurt children, but at the same time, he's also clearly not talking about Heylel's baby, so none of us can figure out why he's so distraught. But it's starting to reach the point of affecting Mikha and Heylel and the baby so if we could give them a break, they'd appreciate it."

"Okay."

Sam had barely gotten himself ready for bed by the time Gabriel returned with the agitated fledgling.

"Hey, Sami," Sam said.

The fledgling grinned and jumped on the bed as soon as Gabriel put him down. "Sam!" Sami settled in the hunter's lap and Gabriel joined them.

"Do you want me to tell you a story?" Gabriel asked when Sam and the fledgling looked as settled as they were going to get.

"No naps!" Sami shouted.

"No naps," Sam agreed. "But we are going to sit here quietly because I had a long day, and I'd like to hear Gabriel's story."

"Okay."

It came as no surprise when both the human and the fledgling were sound asleep before Gabriel had been speaking for more than a minute.

* * *

"If you wanted to go, I could keep an eye on them until they wake up," Raphael offered when he dropped by a few hours into the nap.

"I was hoping you could spare a few minutes to talk to Sam later. He had an anxiety attack while he was talking to Castiel earlier and mentioned that he took something for them in college, but hasn't since."

"I might have a few ideas, but are you sure he even wants to be medicated? Or that he'd want _me_ to do it?" Raphael asked. "I'm not drugging anyone who isn't walking into it with both eyes open. _Not again_."

"I didn't say anything about drugging. I asked him if he'd want to talk to you if you were up for it, and he said yes. Besides, _Rafa_. You're the only one who hasn't decided whether or not you like him yet."

"I gave him a token, just like everyone else. What more do you want from me? Your already have a majority."

"I want _your_ honest opinion, Rafa," Gabe said. "Not what you think I want to hear. Cas has known him the longest and can't get through an entire conversation with him without causing a panic attack. Mikha and Heylel are _really biased_ because of the pregnancy hormones and Crowley is going to pick whatever's in his twin's best interest. And I think Azi drugged Sam, but whatever he learned from it seems to have pleased him, but that doesn't mean his is the opinion I value the most."

"What more do you need to know?" Raphael asked. "You're in love, Sam's love, he's good with Sami, he's not going to hurt you, and he's not afraid of dealing with a pregnant Heylel. And even if he _is_ incorrectly convinced that Mikha is pregnant, I don't see any problems with that unless he's only being good for them because he _thinks_ they're pregnant."

"Rafa, it's been almost two months and Mikha's and Heylel's surprise visits have _all_ gone well. No one is that good at acting."

Raphael turned his head, his gaze turning to Sami, who was sleeping peacefully in Sam's lap. "Do you know how long I was in a relationship with the seraph that assaulted me?"

Gabriel swallowed and shook his head.

"A century. An entire century. And not once did I ever suspect that there was anything wrong." Raphael shifted, huddling in on himself. "I know I have to deliver Heylel's baby, _I know that,_ but what if I can't? I was so scared when I gave birth. I had to hide, and I couldn't tell _anyone_ and it hurt so much, Gabby."

Gabriel looked down, glad that Raphael wasn't looking at him. "You can do it, Rafa." The _You have to_ , went unspoken. There was literally no one else who could deliver an angelic baby.

"Thanks, Gabby."

* * *

When Sam woke up from his nap, Gabriel and Samandriel were both gone. But sitting by the wall was the archangel he had met the least. Raphael. He sat up. "Dean was always telling Cas how creepy it was that he'd watch us sleep, but I have to admit that I'm a little surprised to see you here."

"All of my brothers are happy, and I want very little more than that. I swear that if you hurt _any of them_ I will kill you, oath to do no harm be damned."

"I… wasn't planning on hurting any of them?"

"Good, that's good." The archangel nodded. "Gabriel said you wanted to talk to me about something, but it'll have to wait because I need to be getting back to Heaven to check on Heylel. But there's also something I would like you to do for me."

"Uh, sure. What do you need?"

"I want you to teach my son, Samandriel, to swim."


	20. Convergence: Raphael

**AN: This chapter contains a brief discussion of Raphael's sexual assault, so please be warned.**

* * *

It turned out that what Raphael had meant was not that he literally wanted Sam to teach Sami how to swim. Later, Gabriel explained that what Raphael _really_ wanted was to see for himself that the hunter was _good_ for the fledgling. Raphael had been through a lot in the last six millenia, and he was just trying to do what was right for his fledgling.

Raphael had ended up agreeing that the spa week Sam had suggested for Michael and Heylel was a really good idea. None of them knew how long a typical archangel pregnancy was supposed to last, and there would come a point when it wouldn't be safe for them to continue leaving Heaven.

So the two eldest archangels were surprised by Sam sending them "somewhere" for a getaway retreat at the beginning of June.

"I borrowed a waterpark," Gabriel said on Saturday when there was half a week left of the spa retreat. "Raphael deserves a break himself, so as much as this is for Sami, it's for him too."

* * *

They went to the waterpark on Sunday. Dean and Castiel thought it would be fun to join them, and there was a hotel on the premises where they could all stay.

"Good morning," Raphael said when he and Sami met the at the pool on Monday. Raphael was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and Sami looked like a normal six year old with red swim trunks and blue arm floaties with fishes on them. The only thing unusual was his pale green wings, but Gabriel had promised no one would be able to notice _and_ he'd rented out the entire park.

Sami was holding Raphael's hand and as soon as he saw Sam, had pulled away and ran towards the adult. "Sam!" he shouted.

Sam crouched, holding out his arms for the fledgling to jump into. "Hey Kiddo," he said, picking Samandriel up. "How are you?"

"I'm great!" Sami answered.

"Are you excited to go swimming?"

Sami's grin faded as he looked over Sam's shoulder at the pool. "That's a big bath." His wings stirred in agitation. "No wet wings."

"I had an idea about that," Raphael said, walking towards them. "Do you want me to put a waterproofing ward on your wings?"

"You first," Sami said. "Please demonstrate?"

"I can do that. Sam? You'll need to close your eyes."

Sam knew why he had to close his eyes. Sami's were the only wings he could safely process without going blind, or worse. But that didn't stop it from aching when the blinding light scratched at his eyelids. He wanted to see Gabriel's true self, and maybe Gabriel's siblings, if only because the future implied he'd join their flock completely and he didn't even know them all entirely.

Maybe someday.

The light faded and Sami was giggling. Opening his eyes, he saw that there was a bit of water near Raphael's feet, but he appeared dry. So the ward must have worked.

"Does Sami need a life jacket?" Sam asked as Raphael traced an Enochian sigil on Sami's shoulder.

"I think it's a good idea," Raphael agreed. A second later Sami was wearing a life vest that was blue with detailing the same color as Sami's pale green wings.

"Are you ready to play in the water?" Sam asked.

"Yes! Down! Down!"

Sam let Sami down and the fledgling ran to the edge of the water before stopping right at the edge of the stairs into the water.

"Go on," Sam encouraged when Sami hesitated. "It's a nice temperature." Sam walked to the stairs and since the fledgling still hadn't descended into the water, he walked down the stairs.

Sami stared wide eyed at the submerged stairs then looked up at Sam.

"Can you put one toe in the water for me?" Sam asked. "It won't hurt you. Raphael and Gabriel are right over there and I'm right here, where I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"Okay." Sami lifted his right foot and put just his toes in the water to test it. The water was a nice temperature and it didn't bite him, so he put his foot on the stairs. Then he took another step and another until he was in the water. He was tall enough to touch the bottom of the 3ft deep area, but with the life jacking he was floating a little higher up.

"Now what?" Sami asked.

"Now we teach you to swim."

Sami had more fun splashing around in the water than actually learning how to swim (which surprised no one) but they _were_ having fun. Sam and Gabriel splashed around in the water with the fledgling and Raphael sat on the edge of the pool with his legs dangling in it while he watched them.

They spent the next few days swimming and going on water slides and generally exploring the park with at least one adult keeping a very close eye on Sami at all times.

Wednesday after lunch found Sam standing at the edge of the pool while Dean and Sami splashed around in it. Raphael was sitting cross-legged on the concrete a few meters away, staring unfocused at the sky. Sam had been considering whether or not he was ready to talk to Raphael about his anxiety, but he also didn't want to disturb the Healer so he was mostly ignoring him in favor of staring out along the water.

"Sam!"

Sam turned quickly when he heard his name. He couldn't place the tone Mikha was using, but he also knew that a moment ago neither Mikha or Heylel had been present. Both Michael and Heylel were standing further behind Raphael and they both looked _radiant_. And Mikha was _running_ towards him.

The deck next to the water was wet and Sam's foot slipped. Surprised by Michael's quick movements towards him, he was unable to catch his balance as he slipped, and tumbled into the pool.

"Sam!" _Dean_. _Panicked._

Sam's back hit the water, the impact forced the air out of his lungs, and he felt his head "crack" against the bottom of the pool in the shallow water he had fallen in. By the time he could remember how to breathe, his head was already submerged and he was inhaling water.

Sam could see Michael through the water and could not place his panicked expression. This was supposed to be a safe place. Were they under attack? _He couldn't breathe, but he had to go help. Why was he sinking? Why was everything turning black?_

* * *

Michael pulled Sam out of the water and laid him on his side on the deck. "Rafa? Is Sam okay?"

Raphael had started for the edge of the water as soon as Sam had tripped and knelt beside Sam. "Sam's going to be fine, but he's unconscious right this second so he's not okay yet." He placed a hand on Sam's chest to vanish the water he had inhaled and repair the damage done to his lungs and vocal cords by the chlorinated water. He also made sure the hunter didn't have a concussion from hitting his head.

Dean left Samandriel with Castiel and swam across the pool to the deck Sam was lying on and climbed out of the pool. "What the _hell_ were you thinking," he growled at Michael, keeping his posture rigid but non-threatening because he wasn't about to scare the fledgling.

"Dean, stop," Sam mumbled as he blinked the dark spots out of his vision. He forced himself into a sitting position despite the dizziness it caused. "What happened?"

"You don't get to defend him, you nearly drowned. If Samandriel weren't here, I'd have stabbed him by now."

Sam bolted to his feet and stood unsteadily but firmly between Mikha and his brother. "You can't!"

"Why the fuck not? You could have drowned!"

"Dean, please settle down. I'm sure that Mikha meant Sam no harm. Sam, please sit down. I repaired the damage to your lungs, but you still almost drowned less than five minutes ago."

Dean pouted. "He hurt my brother!"

"And what do you suppose I might be capable of if you were capable of and intended to hurt one of mine?

Before anyone could say anything else that might worsen the arguing, Sam doubled over coughing. _He couldn't breathe._

"Sam!"

 _Why was Dean shouting? Why was Dean always shouting?_

"Go play with Sami, Dean," Sam insisted, even as he was gasping to fill his lungs with air. "You're disturbing the peace."

"But Sam-"

" _Go_." Sam sat, still trying to breathe freely as his brother finally listened, still sulking, but wandered off to leave them alone.

Sam was finally managing to take in some regular breaths into his still sore lungs. Michael hugged Sam, which didn't surprise the human as much as it would have weeks earlier. "I'm sorry for causing you to fall in. I just wanted to thank you so much for sending us on that retreat. We had so much fun!"

Sam smiled. "Good!" He sighed. "Why don't you and Heylel go splash around awhile?"

"Okay, Sam." Michael let go of Sam and walked away.

Sam watched as Michael led his mate over to the part of the pool with the very shallow end so they were only ankle deep and then continued holding Heylel's hand as they splashed around. He looked out into the water and smiled. Everyone was having fun, and that made him happy because it meant that everything was going the way it was supposed to be going.

Raphael allowed Sam to sit in silence for awhile, but eventually it had to come to an end and he sat down beside the human.

Sam sent a curious and questioning look at the Healer. "Hey, Raph. What's up?"

"We haven't had much of an opportunity to chat, and I had hoped with this trip that we might be able to rectify that. My brother is very much in love with you and I don't see that changing, in which case I suppose the eventuality is that you'll join our flock, and I feel it is necessary to clear the air first."

"I hope that I haven't done anything to offend you? I had thought you were staying away because Mikha and Heylel needed your more focused attention."

"Yes, but not entirely. I've been avoiding you because I need to be honest with you, but I wasn't ready to be honest with myself." Sam didn't say anything, allowing Raphael a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. "Samandriel is my fledgling, and I was a little worried that if you knew how he came about, you wouldn't be as good with him as you are. With Mikha and Heylel being _so ready_ to have a fledgling of their own, it's been difficult for me to separate my own pain and hurt from the concept that _I'm_ the one who is going to have to deliver Heylel's baby."

"I'm not sure I understand what else you're trying to say."

"I love Sami, and I wouldn't give him up again _for anything_. But he was created because someone I was close to betrayed and assaulted me. I am what I think humans would call aromantic and asexual, but there was a someone I thought I could happily spend the rest of my life with. I was mistaken. It was decades after I was the only functioning archangel in Heaven so my pregnancy was a difficult time for me. I didn't have anyone to confide in and I had to keep it a secret and I had no one to help me, not even when it was time to give birth."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Sam said, quietly.

"Heylel tried to ask me for fertility advice a few months ago and I reacted poorly. I know they're both happy and that their fledgling is going to be well loved, but…"

"But thinking about them having a fledgling is bring up the emotions you buried when you were carrying your own?"

Raphael nodded.

"Look over there, at Michael and Heylel. What do you see?" Sam asked.

The archangel looked and tried to see what Sam wanted him to see. He saw the two oldest archangels standing in the ankle deep water. Michael had his arms on Heylel as the second waddled and splashed. He could see their brightly painted fingernails and toenails and how _radiant_ they both looked, especially Heylel.

"I see the two archangels who worked together to raise me. They're happier than I've seen them in my entire life," Raphael answered.

"As I've gotten to know Mikha, I've come to understand that they want that fledgling Heylel is carrying more than anything they've ever wanted in their lives. I see a doting Mikha pampering Heylel and making sure everything is just right. They're happy, and healthy, and eventually their babies are going to need to be born. It may have been a very terrible and scarring experience for you, but you're their Healer and they're going to need help." Sam looked at him with kindness, and a wisdom that Raphael felt was beyond his years.

"Because if I don't help them, it could be just as terrible for them as it was for me," he concluded.

"I'm not convinced the two experiences should be compared. I merely meant that you're the only one with the know-how of what's going to need to be done and perhaps you'll have some insight on how to make it less painful."

"Suppose that you are correct." Raphael looked back at Sam. "Thank you."

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" Sam asked.

"Gabriel mentioned a few weeks ago that you had wanted to discuss your mental health?"

Sam worried his lip. "Would that be okay? I know you're busy with them-"

"I would be happy to listen and see what I can do."

Sam took a deep breath, ignoring the faint ache still in his chest, and readied himself. "When I was in college I was getting panic and anxiety attacks, and they were often enough that a doctor prescribed Xanax. I know that it can be an addictive medication, but I took it exactly as prescribed and it helped. But then after Jess died and I ended up on the road with Dean, it was too hard to ever go back to any doctors so I just stopped taking it. And sure, my anxiety worsened, but that seemed unimportant compared to the end of the world."

"I want you to promise me that you'll try to give your mental health a higher priority. I can see about finding a medication for your panic attacks that isn't addictive if you want me to, but this is important," he told Sam, but his tone wasn't one of disapproval, it was something softer.

"Sure," Sam said. "Thanks."


	21. Convergence: Gabriel

Sam shifted his head, resting his forehead against Gabriel's neck. He couldn't tell whether or not his archangel was asleep yet, but he whispered anyway, "I love you. I love you more than I can comprehend some days. And sometimes I see you making this face, like, 'is this the thing that'll make him leave?' and it breaks my heart, Gabe. All I want is for you to be happy, and sometimes I wonder how it could possibly be me that makes you happy, but I trust you. Maybe you'll tire of me, maybe you won't, but I trust that you would tell me, that wouldn't just disappear into the unknown. But I wish you would trust me, because there is _nothing_ that would make me cast you aside, archangel mine. You could have a secret lair with your supposedly monstrous children and not only would I still love you, but I'd love them too. And they would be beautiful."

Gabriel didn't move, and Sam dozed off, never thinking about whether or not Gabriel ever heard his words.

* * *

"Come on, Sam! We're going to be late!" Gabriel paused, taking a second look at Sam's attire. "And there's no _way_ you're going anywhere looking like _that._ "

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Sam was wearing his normal everyday clothing. Jeans, a t-shirt, and his leather jacket.

"You'll stick out." Gabriel shook his head. "I'll fix it. Ready to go?"

Gabriel waited for Sam's tentative yes before taking his arm and snapping.

The first thing Sam noticed when they reappeared was the noise. People, lots of people that he couldn't see, talking, and the sound of clinking glasses.

The next thing he noticed was that his mate was wearing a suit. Not one of the cheap suits they used when impersonating the FBI, but something a little more exquisite.

And then Sam looked down. He was wearing a black waistcoat with a long sleeved shirt that was a dark green. His tie was of similar color.

He looked up at Gabriel to find the archangel licking his lips as he stared at him. When Sam raised an eyebrow, Gabriel said, "You look so good. I can't _wait_ to help you take it off."

"So what are you waiting for?"

Gabriel smirked, but shook his head. "Nice try, but we _are_ here for a reason. Come on."

Sam dutifully followed the archangel through a doorway leading towards the bulk of the noise.

The ballroom was crowded. Sam didn't know anyone and he'd never seen so many well dressed people all at once.

The women wore fancy, tasteful, dresses and the men wore fancy suits, mostly black, grey, or blue, with other colors appearing occasionally.

There were some women in black (tasteful, modest, flattering, simple, shic, conservative, sleek, elegant) cocktail dresses with trays of champagne flutes drifting among the crowd.

"Gabriel!" Sam hissed. "Why are we here?!"

"Why, to have fun, Samalam! Why else?"

Sam didn't have it in him to be surprised by Gabriel's answer. Gabriel was an archangel, he lived for the moment. Instant gratification and all that. "Do you know anyone here?"

"Sure. Dionysus _never_ misses a good party."

The hunter swallowed. "Is everyone here a pagan?"

"No, no, don't be absurd. At least half are demigods or their mortal company." Gabriel paused. "Yeah… it's a pagan party. And as my entourage, you're my disguise."

"They won't try to eat me again, right?"

"Nope, humans are strictly off the menu tonight." Gabriel looked around for a second, and then took Sam's hand. "We can't just stand here, we'll stick out."

Sam followed as Gabe pulled him through the crowd. He kept his head down, but he watched as Gabriel quietly greeted some of the figures they wove through as the archangel led him who knew where.

"Faðir! I'm so glad to see you!"

Sam looked up, finding a young woman in a black cocktail dress standing in front of them. The dress was sleeveless with a modest drape neck. Her black hair was braided intricately and none of it hid her brown eyes. She was holding a platter of what he could only guess were champagne flutes. Sam _knew_ that the word she used was some form of father, and that he should be able to place her, but he couldn't.

"Like I'd miss it, you know how much I love extravagance." Gabriel turned with a look towards Sam. Sam couldn't quite read the expression on his face, but it was almost like, 'Well, here is a child of mine, what do you think?' But there was a concerned aspect, not just like he was daring Sam, but also like he was afraid how Sam was going to react. "Sam, this is Hela, one of my fosterlings."

Sam was pretty sure he knew exactly why Gabriel was afraid. Because sometimes, like now, he did hide an expression not unlike this one, like he was preparing for the news that his heart was going to shatter into a million pieces. Gabriel's tone had conveyed excitement, because he loved this woman and was happy to see her again, but also worried about how _he_ would react.

He appreciated Gabriel's honesty as far as finally introducing him to his fosterlings, but Sam wished that Gabriel hadn't experienced so much pain as to think that this might be enough for him to break it off with Gabriel. _It wasn't, but he wished Gabriel hadn't found the guarding of his heart to be so necessary._

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Hela. I'm Sam."

The woman gave him a critical look, but she must have found what she was looking for because she nodded. "I've heard only good things about you, but my brothers and I won't hesitate to maim you if you hurt Faðir."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sam said, and he knew he spoke the truth. He loved Gabriel, and he wanted Gabriel to be happy, and the thing that made Gabriel the happiest was Sam getting along with his family. What did it matter if that family included all the archangels and any pagans he might have helped raise? Family was more than blood, it was anyone Gabriel considered to be his family and there was _nothing_ wrong with that.

"Would you like any of this champagne?" Hela asked.

Sam glanced at Gabriel for direction, and watched as the archangel took two of the champagne flutes, passing one to him.

"I don't mean to run you off," Sam said, "But could you excuse us for a moment?"

"Of course." Hela flashed the mortal a knowing smile. "I have rounds to make. Have fun."

Sam put his free hand on Gabriel's arm and pulled him in the direction of the least crowded area he could find. "I love you," he said firmly. "I love you, and I want you to be happy. I don't care if your fosterlings were a kitten or the world serpent, or the goddess of death, because I'm going to love you regardless and as long as they all reasonably behave themselves, I _promise_ to make a concerted effort to get along with them for you. But I want you to trust me too. I don't know if you heard me when I said this the other day, but it breaks my heart when you look at me with that expression of preparing yourself for me to leave you. Because I'm not leaving Gabriel. I'm not going anywhere, and sometimes I wonder what it would take for you to go, but _I trust you._ "

Gabriel swallowed, hard, at his intended mate. He would dwell on how _perfect_ Sam was, and then he'd do something like this that made his human seem even _more_ perfect and he had no idea how he was supposed to deserve that. So instead of trying to form words, he surged forward, standing on the balls of his feet and pulling Sam down so that he could kiss the man he wanted nothing more than to stay with for the rest of their lives.

And then Gabriel flew them away and they made love for the first time, which consummates their mate bond.

The End.

No. My apologizes, we've gotten ahead of ourselves.

"Daaaaad, Fen ate my steak again- OH GODS GET A ROOM!"

Gabriel pulled away, looking over his shoulder at the boy standing there.

Sam would have had a hard time guessing the age of person, except physically, he looked like a young teenager.

"Someday, Narvi, you will find someone that you love, and you will understand that finding a room is not always convenient. Narvi, this is Sam. Sam, this is my youngest fosterling."

Sam reached to shake the child's hand with his free hand but Narvi waved him off.

"I don't want to know where your hands have been! EW!" He rolled his eyes.

"You said something about Fen stealing your steak?" Gabriel asked. "What do you want me to do about it?"

The kid shrugged. "Make him give me more?"

"Did he steal your whole steak?" Gabriel asked, looking confused.

"Just a few bites out of the middle. But that's the best part!"

"Do you want to know a secret?" Sam asked.

Narvi tilted his head. "What secret?"

"Food you steal from your siblings _always_ tastes better than your own food."

"Really?" He watched aptly as both Gabriel and Sam nodded solemnly. "I'ma steal Fen's adult fizzy drink!" He turned around and ran off into the crowd.

Gabriel choked, laughing as he tried to sip his champagne.

Sam blanched. "Gabe, can you hold this?" Without waiting for a response, he put his glass of champagne in Gabriel's empty hand and tried to hurry into the direction Narvi had gone. He didn't condone underage drinking, and didn't want to be the reason Gabriel's _youngest fosterling_ got into trouble. How was he supposed to know that the kid would make the leap from food to drink?

On the other side of the room there were a few tables set up out of the way with chairs. He saw Narvi at one of the tables, a glass of what he could only guess was champagne in hand. Next to him was a tall and muscular man, he guess to be about Hela's age.

Sam swallowed. He didn't really want to walk over there and intervene.

"Sam? It's okay that Narvi has Fen's champagne. Let's leave them be."

"But he's underage!" Sam knew that Gabriel had masqueraded as a pagan for a long time, and that the pagan kid was probably just fine, but he felt it necessary to argue anyway.

"They're actually getting along in public for once, and I'd reeeeeally like to not have to pay for damages just this once." Gabriel held out Sam's glass of champagne. "Please drink some of this? We're here to have fun."

Sam took the proffered glass. "But…"

"They already all changed their glasses from the god powered stuff to the human stuff. No one at that table is getting drunk tonight, especially off of something as weak as human champagne." Sam sighed and Gabriel continued, "If you really don't want to drink, say no and I'll put it back and say nothing more about it."

Sam glanced at his glass. "What is it?"

Gabriel smirked. "Exactly what you can handle without getting drunk, but more than enough to let you feel a good buzz. Trust me. We're here to have fun and getting you blackout drunk would not be my idea of a good time, okay? It's just something to help you relax and be able to stop worrying about everything so much. Let me do the worrying, even if it's just for a few hours. I promise. No loss of control, no waking up three days later wondering where your pants went and where you are. We're just relaxing, and having a good time without any stress."

"No more surprises, just you and me having a good time?" Sam was almost begging. He wanted to have a good time here with Gabriel at this cocktail party where knew no one. Gabriel was right. He didn't often have the opportunity to put all his worries aside and let Gabriel take control of everything and he _knew_ it would be nice, if he really could just _relax_.

"I can't promise that there won't be _any_ surprises, I am a trickster and all my fosterlings are present and accounted for. But I can promise that I won't let anyone hurt you. Go on, try the champagne." The archangel brought his flute to his mouth, demonstrating the process for Sam.

With another look of trepidation at the champagne flute, he took a tentative sip. The fact that it was chilled at all surprised him, especially since he was certain they'd been walking around with their flutes long enough for the liquid inside to warm to room temperature. But no, it was perfectly chilled.

It had a fruity taste, and he guessed that it was the smoothest alcoholic beverage he'd ever tasted. Despite the chill, it left that pleasurable heat in his belly. It was fizzy, like Narvi had described it, and as he looked closer at the contents, he noticed that it was slightly darker and more golden in color than he would have expected champagne to be. "What is it?" he asked, certain Gabriel would know.

"Nothing your poor mortal mind needs to analyze right this second. I still want to have some fun!" Gabriel put a hand on Sam's arm and led him in a random direction. "But wait. First, I need to improve my disguise." He reached into a pocket a pulled out a pair of fake sunglasses and a fake red nose and put on both. "How do I look?"

Sam laughed. What was he supposed to say? The angel that he fully intended to mate with was beautiful, even when he looked as silly as he did right then. "You look delectable," he decided. "I can't _wait_ to help you remove it, along with the rest of your clothing." They hadn't had sex yet, but he felt that since Gabriel had said it first and it didn't make him uncomfortable, then saying something like that wasn't off the table.

"Touche." Gabriel nodded to himself. "Would you care to dance?"

"That sounds like fun," Sam agreed, taking another sip of the champagne. He didn't think it was something he'd order for himself, but it wasn't bad, if a little sweet.

Gabriel led the way towards the center of the room where people were dancing.

"Dad? May I have your fizzy drink?"

"Vali! That's not Faðir, don't be silly!"

The two people in front of them were another kid, this one looking identical to Narvi, and a medium height slender young man, possibly a little older than Hela.

"I'm almost disappointed in you Vali, to try and steal a stranger's drink..."

"Slip, it's Dad!"

"What are you talking about?! I'm sorry sirs, my brother is a menace."

Sam glanced at Gabriel, who was clearly holding back a grin.

"It's okay, Sleipnir," Gabriel said, this time smiling widely. He tapped his finger on the rim of his glass. "He's welcome to it."

"But, Sir!"

Sam was enjoying watching the exchange, because while he had seen a side of Gabriel similar to this when his archangel played with Samandriel, these were children Gabriel had helped raise and had known for far longer than the fledgling he hadn't met until returning to Heaven. Gabriel was _good_ with children, and he loved his fosterlings and Sam was happy that Gabriel had brought him because otherwise he might have _missed this._

There was a crash, and they all turned to look as someone dropped their crystal champagne flute. The broken glass glittered like a handful of diamonds.

There was a muttered thank you and an apology, and a moment later when Sam turned back towards where Sleipnir and Vali, they were gone. "Who was that?" he asked quietly.

"Sleipnir, my oldest fosterling, and Vali, Narvi's twin. I'm not sure why they were acting like that. They're usually friendlier. Then again, Vali's been stealing Slip's and Jorm's champagne since they arrived. They always do that."

Sam took another sip of his champagne. The burn of the alcohol was a little stronger this time, but it was warm and he liked it. He didn't think he'd have any more, once he finished this glass. It bordered on a little too sweet and as much as he trusted Gabriel about it not being too much for him to handle, he knew he didn't want to drink too much. Not here.

Gabriel turned around when the champagne flute fell from Sam's hand, shattering onto the floor much like the one earlier had. "Sam? Are you alright?"

"Just dandy," Sam replied, and Gabriel almost couldn't tell whether his human was being jovial or sarcastic. He vanished the glass on the floor, but not before swiping a finger through the spot wet with what was left of Sam's champagne. It smelled like the diluted mixture he'd taken from Hela's tray for them both, but as he stuck his finger in his mouth to taste it, his eyes widened. _Someone_ had switched Sam's drink for the stronger stuff the deities preferred. And he was pretty sure he had a 1 in 6 chance of guessing correctly. He snapped what remained of the liquid into a vial.

"Sam, Sweetheart? We're going to go sit for a spell, okay? I'd like you to drink some water."

"Oakey dokey," Sam agreed amenably.

Gabriel was pissed. He'd promised Sam a good time and Sam had seemed genuinely happy about meeting the children he'd raised during his time as a pagan. And he'd _thought_ that they'd been pretty happy about meeting the person he intended to stay with for eternity. But this- this was bad. Sam _hated_ being drunk, and from his last experience with Sam coming back down from the height of drunkenness, he could understand why. It wasn't about the fact that he had nothing to fear from Sam, because _obviously_ Sam wasn't a mean drunk, not like his father had been. No, the problem came from the fact that Sam had told him, in great detail, that the feeling of being out of control, something a lot of people enjoyed being drunk, _for,_ left Sam feeling similar to how he'd felt the entire time he'd been influenced by demon blood, or the few times he had been possessed.

Sam had explained once that the nice buzz that came with consuming just the right amount of alcohol was nice, sometimes, when they were celebrating or having fun, but otherwise he preferred complete control over his faculties. Gabriel that _thought_ that encouraging him to have _one flute of diluted pagan champagne_ would provide that, but some idiot had switched it for something stronger. The stronger stuff which even Gabriel had chosen not to consume for the sake of looking out for Sam.

On their way to the quiet corner by the tables, Gabriel flagged down Hela, who was still serving champagne.

"Faðir," she said.

"Can you get me a glass of water?" he asked. "It's for Sam."

"Sure." She selected a glass from her platter and moved to give it to Sam, but Gabriel moved to take it from her. While she watched him curiously, he ran his finger around the rim of the glass to check the contents. Just water. Good.

"Sam, could you drink this for me, please?"

The hunter took the glass obediently and drained it in a few swallows. His human was like a giant puppy, why would they do this to him? He refilled the glass with a thought. "Somebody put the strong stuff in his flute."

Hela cursed colorfully in an ancient language. She was his daughter all right. "Do you need anything else?"

She hadn't done it, that much he knew. Not that he'd suspected her for certain. "No, thank you."

He continued leading Sam to the corner of the room, calling silently to Aziraphale as he went.

"What happened?" Aziraphale whispered when he was next to him. Gabriel glanced at Sam to see that the hunter hadn't even noticed the appearance of the other archangel.

"Someone gave him strong pagan spirits. I'm pretty sure I know who it was."

"Your fosterlings?"

"I think the boys decided it would be a good prank. I'm not amused, and I'm pretty sure Sam's not going to react well when he comes out of it. He's had a lot of bad experiences with losing his autonomy. And I _promised_ this wouldn't happen." They reached the corner of the room. "Sam, can you sit down for me?"

Sam sat down against the wall, and Gabriel handed him the champagne flute full of water. "How do you feel?" Gabriel asked.

"Fuzzy," Sam answered, sipping the water. "Why am I so dizzy? It's like the whole word is spinning. I don't like it."

Gabriel looked across the room to see that all of his fosterlings, with the understandable exception of Hela, were sitting at one of the tables on that side of the room.

"Sam, I'm going to be right back, okay? I'm just going over there, but Aziraphale is going to sit here with you and get you some more water if you need it, alright?"

Sam nodded, but Gabriel wasn't sure his intended understood what he was agreeing with. But the archangel didn't repeat himself, just moving in the direction he said he was going. He had some fosterlings to chew out for inappropriate behavior.

"All five of you are grounded for the next decade," he said slowly when he was standing at the end of their table and holding up the vial of contaminated champagne. "And I want someone to tell me what the _fuck_ this was all about, or we might make it a century. And don't think that just because most of you are adults means that I can't still figure out ways to make your lives _unbearable._ Because this? This is the height of unacceptable behavior. Tricksters are supposed to stand _against_ this kind of thing. I swore an oath to not lay a hand on a single hair of a single one of you, and I intend to uphold that until my dying breath, but this? I have killed people for less than this, and one of you decided that my _intended mate_ was a reasonable target."

"If you're afraid of him when he's drunk, then he's not the right mate for you," Fenrir said.

Gabriel blinked. "That doesn't make it okay! I _know_ what kind of drunk he is! He's the kind that wants to have a drink and not get drunk because he's had the kinds of bad experiences that mean that out of control is not a pleasant feeling! I invited him to this cocktail party for a nice relaxing evening, and so that he could meet all of you and get off to the right foot and _what did you decide to do?_ You drugged him!"

"I am disappointed," Gabriel said. "Because one of you took something I said, out of context, and have very likely ruined my evening. The other day, my intended told me that even if I had a lair of monstrous children he'd still love them. I think that metaphorical lair of children would have treated him a little better than the five of you did today."

"Gabe?"

Sam was looking around, trying to find his angel, but he couldn't find him, and he was confused and dizzy and really not feeling good at all.

Someone was next to him, whispering something about something he couldn't make out, but he didn't feel in danger. Whoever was next to him was safe, and he knew it. He blinked slowly, barely able to pay attention to what was happening as he started falling towards whoever was next to him, slightly surprised when they pushed him back to sitting up straight.

"Careful, can't have you getting hurt while your Mate is defending you."

Sam looked up in confusion at the person sitting there. He _knew_ that he was supposed to know them, but he couldn't place who they were. Someone tall and with white hair and why couldn't he remember them? "Who'r you?"

Despite the facial features of the person sitting there not changing, Sam was certain that they were feeling worry, and that made him sad because that was _his fault._

 _Everything was always his fault._

"I'm Aziraphale, Sam. I'm Gabriel's older brother."

It took Sam a while to process that. He _knew_ that his mate had older brothers, of course, he'd met them all, but he was pretty sure he couldn't name them right now, if anyone asked.

 _But that name._ "Oh! You're Crawly's mate! In Good Omens!"

The archangel's head tilted. "Are you familiar with Good Omens?"

"It's my favorite book," Sam slurred. "You and Crawly and the antichrist saved the world. I wish I could do that." He felt sad. But the sadness was underneath his earnest desire to do just that.

 _But the road to Hell was paved with good intentions._

"I think my Crowley would prefer you didn't call him that."

"My Crowley stole his name." How was their Crowley doing? They hadn't heard from him since Retail Hell. Despite the fact that he was a demon and likely technically their enemy, Sam kind of hoped he was okay.

"I'm sure my Crowley didn't care too much for that, either. If he knows." There was a moment of silence. Then he said, "How are you feeling?"

"Where's Gabri'l?" He wanted his mate. It didn't matter that it wasn't official yet, it was going to be and that's the only person he wanted anywhere near him.

"He's over there." Aziraphale pointed.

Sam didn't see Gabriel, and that didn't surprise him because there was no way this could be real. He didn't get to meet his heroes because he didn't deserve them.

"I always wanted to see your bookstore. Not to shop, not to separate you from your books, just to see it."

"It's not there anymore."

"Of course not," Sam agreed. But not sarcastic. "It's fiction. Fantasy."

"It's just as true as the Winchester Gospels and those are also marked fiction."

"They are fiction."Sam nodded to himself. "They left out the best part about the demon blood." Sam didn't want to continue on that vein of thought because it was sad and he didn't want to dwell on all of his mistakes.

Aziraphale didn't say anything either, concerned that anything he said would simply further Sam's spiral. "Are you still dizzy?"

"A little." It was uncomfortable, but the sick feeling was worse. He just wanted Gabriel to come back and hold him.

"Would it be okay if I eased it a little for you?"

Sam shrugged, but remembered angels usually needed more consent than that. "Just a little."

Aziraphale brushed the edge of Sam's shoulder. He could see a little clearer and his brain wasn't quite as muddled, but the touch had done nothing for the unease brewing in the pit of his stomach. Sam swallowed heavily. The champagne flute still had some water left, so he swallowed it. Good wet water.

"I'm going to use the restroom," he said, slowly, firmly, as he carefully stood up. He didn't think he was going to puke, but it was always a possibility after the consumption of alcohol. "Do you know where it is?"

"That way."Aziraphale pointed. "Out the door you and Gabriel came in when you arrived. Would you like me to escort you?"

"No!" The answer came out faster and harsher than Sam intended. "No, I'm fine. You should stay here, I'll be right back." He headed in the direction Aziraphale had said before the archangel could have the opportunity to argue into escorting Sam. Sam didn't want to be escorted to the bathroom, he wanted to slip out and have a moment alone.

The corridor outside the ballroom was significantly quieter and he exhaled a sigh of relief. Now to find somewhere dark.

It took him a few minutes wandering around to find a broom closet, but it was dark inside and he doubted anyone would think to look for him there, so he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. It was roomy enough that he didn't bump his head.

The alcohol in his blood was burning, leaving him feeling hot and sick, so he stripped, uncaring that Gabriel had promised delightful foreplay after the party. He just wanted to be a little cooler and a little less broken.

Once naked, he laid down on the floor of the broom closet and curled up underneath the waistcoat he'd stripped out of. No reason to scandalize whoever found him.

Gabriel had nothing left to say to his disobedient children, so he turned around and started walking, fully intending to return to his brother and his intended.

"You have to calm down."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at Samael, who had more or less materialized next to him.

"If you don't calm down, you're going to terrify your mate and you know you don't want to do that."

"I need to see Sam."

"I'm not disputing that. Sam needs to see you too. But if he sees you like this, he _is_ going to panic. And I know you don't want that."

"Samael, they… _they hurt him._ The children I raised _hurt_ the man I'm going to _mate_." Gabriel's lip quivered, but that was the only physical display of emotion he allowed himself.

Crowley hugged his little brother. "They'll get what's coming to them, no injury to a single hair on a single head. But Sam needs you right now."

"I know," Gabriel replied returning the hug stiffly.

Crowley held onto Gabriel until his baby brother relaxed into it, accepting the comfort he rarely offered. "Let's go check on Sam and Azi," he said, deciding that Gabriel was probably calm enough that he wouldn't send Sam into a panic attack.

* * *

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST SAM?!"

Aziraphale swallowed, looking a lot like a deer caught in the headlights. He also had nothing to say in his own defence because Gabriel was right. He should have known better than to let the intoxicated human wander off when he should have known Gabriel had good reasons for not leaving him along.

Crowley at first looked like he was going to say something, either in Aziraphale's defence or telling Gabriel to calm down again, but he sighed and shrugged his defeat. "Yeah, I've got nothing in your defense Zira."

"You're not helping!" Gabriel yelled at Crowley. "If you hadn't gotten in my way, we would have been back here before Sam wandered off and ended up who knows where!"

"In which case we would have entirely different problems on our hands." Crowley rolled his eyes. "Zira, did you see which direction Sam went?"

"He went out the corridor towards the bathroom, but I didn't see him once he left the ballroom."

"I'm going to go look for him, and if anything untoward happened to him because you left him alone, _I will fry you both in holy oil._ "

* * *

Gabriel found Sam naked and crying in a broom closet. His clothes were draped over him enough to keep his modesty and his angelic senses told him that no one had touched Sam. _He would have smote anyone who had dared lay a finger on him, and then he would have fought whichever one of his fosterlings had done this, to hell with the consequences for oath breaking._

"Sam, Sweetheart, is it okay if I join you down there?"

Sam sniffled, shifting in an attempt to find the voice of the person he'd been waiting forever and ever for. "Gabe? That you?" He made grabbing hands towards the one he wanted, but didn't dare allow himself to actually touch, lest he accidentally _sully_ the archangel.

Gabriel closed the door behind him and laid down on the floor, drawing his long limbed mate into his arms. "I love you, Samuel Winchester, and I am _so sorry_ that the alcohol content of your drink was higher than I said it would be."

"It's okay," Sam said, because yeah, he felt like crap, but he had never been out of control. But mostly, he just felt sick and uneasy and it wasn't Gabe's fault he couldn't hold is liquor.

"No, Sam, it's not okay. One of my fosterlings got it into their head that I was afraid of you when you got drunk so they thought that getting you drunk was acceptable behavior, and it wasn't."

Sam sniffed again, leaning his head towards the crook of Gabe's neck because he liked to feel safe. "What did I do wrong? Why do they hate me? I just wanted them to like me, you love them so much." Sam whispered.

"They don't _hate_ you. And you didn't do anything wrong, Sam. This is not your fault." Sam didn't seem inclined to agree, but Gabriel kissed his cheek and his neck. He got an idea. "You are beautiful, Samshine, may I show you how much I love you? Not sex, not while you're feeling like this. I just want to lavish you with the attention you deserve."

"Why?"

Gabriel's heart _broke_. Sam's tone conveyed loss and fear and hurt and pain, and so much _self loathing_ that it physically _burned._ It made him want to wrap Sam in a cocoon of grace blankets and smite everyone who had ever so much as _looked_ at Sam wrong, let alone actually hurt him.

He kissed Sam's collarbone, and then his shoulder. "Because I love you and because you are worth it." He moved to pull the clothing away from Sam's body. "Is it okay if I uncover you?" He waited for Sam's very clear consent, and pulled the coverings off his intended.

He'd seen Sam naked before, of course, but this seemed more intimate, somehow. It was completely dark in the small closet, but being an archangel, he could see perfectly well.

Sam had various hunting scars, which was to be expected. The largest were the one on his back and one near his appendix.

"I want to show you how much I love you," Gabriel said. "I want to show you how much you mean to me." He ran his fingers across the back of Sam's neck shoulder, and then repeated the motion, this time gently massaging the muscles. "You are beautiful, and strong, and I intend for you to be my _lifelong mate._ "

Sam wasn't sure how much of Gabriel's words he was actively comprehending, but he relaxed against the archangel he was completely and totally in love with. _He felt safe, in a way that he had never felt until after the apocalypse was cancelled, and only felt when in the arms of his archangel. This was home._ " _Love you._ "

"My brothers all like you, and you're amazing with Sami." He continued massaging Sam's back, slowly removing most of the alcohol from his blood as he did so. "If we both decide we ever want to have children, I want to have them with you."

Saw _purred._ "I love how much you adore your family. I love watching you play with Sami, and how you spend so much effort trying to make sure that everyone is happy and healthy and cared for." He closed his eyes, leaning back against Gabriel's touch. "I'm glad you let me help you ease some of your burden, but also, I'm glad I don't have to be strong all the time with you."

Gabriel leaned forward to kiss Sam, but Sam turned at the last second so he was kissing Sam's neck. In return, Sam kissed Gabriel's head and continued on to say, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I love that you would want to spend the rest of your immortal life, _with me._ "

This time, Sam leaned forward to kiss Gabriel full on. There was no battle for dominance, just two ridiculously in love people surrendering.

And the mate bond formed.

There was no shattering of light bulbs or explosion of grace. And there were no orgasms or sex or consumation.

There was only love.

* * *

As much as Gabriel and Sam might have liked to remain in the broom closet for awhile longer, that wasn't entirely feasible.

"Would you like me to take you home?" Gabriel asked quietly into the hair of the one snuggling in the crook of his neck.

"You didn't undress me properly, I'm disappointed," Sam snarked. "We can't leave yet."

Gabriel grinned. "I could snap you the clothes back on and undress you here."

"We are not high school students and we are not having sex in a broom closet."

"But it would be fun!"

"Gabriel, do you really want your first time to be in a broom closet, when your partner can't see?"

"But Sam, there's no need for you to see if I do all the work for you!"

"But what if I like helping?" Sam's tone was light, open to whatever Gabriel wanted to do. He pressed closer to Gabriel. "A bed would be better."

"And you're sure you want to go back out there?"

"How are you ever going to look your brothers in the face again if we don't go back out there."

Gabriel pouted, not that Sam could see it. "That's a low blow, Samalam. But if you're sure you want to do it…" The archangel snapped.

A second later, the closet door swung open and Sam stumbled to regain his balance. He was dressed, but his tie was missing and he just knew his hair was mussed from lying on the floor, _and he was going to murder his mate with love._

There was a soft pop, and he couldn't see because there was confetti everywhere.

"Congratulations!" Crowley exclaimed. "May you have many long and happy years together."

"Don't gloat, dearest, it's unbecoming," Azi said. "But I would also like to offer my congratulations."

"You're gloating too," Gabriel said. "Sam, my brothers are being mean."

Sam smiled. Older brothers- they were all as similar as they were different. "They're just jealous they didn't think to have sex in a broom closet."

"You think so?"

"Mhmm. So… are you going to introduce me to the rest of your children?"

"Uh… no. They're grounded for the next century and you almost had a panic attack. But, I would like this dance. And we can say goodbye to Hela before we leave."

Sam wanted to argue, didn't want to let the unfortunate alcohol ruin Gabriel's reason for bringing him, but at the same time, he was feeling better and Gabriel was happy and pushing would only ruin the good mood. "I would like to have this dance," he said instead.

Gabriel smiled widely and took Sam's hand, leading him back into the ballroom to where other people were dancing.

Sam didn't know the dance, but Gabriel took the lead and walked him through the steps.

It was fun, and Sam knew that Gabriel was in his element. The archangel was beautiful, _glowing_ and while he hadn't figured out the mate bond yet, he could feel his mate's joy. And it was contagious.

The dance ended so they danced another and both Sam and the archangel developed a healthy flush from the exertion.

"Oh, Sam," Gabriel whispered after pressing a gentle kiss to Sam's cheek. "I love you so much."

Sam moaned and kissed Gabriel back. "I'm glad you brought me. I had a good time."

"Good." Gabriel hugged him. "What if we just went home now?"

"So you can undress me properly? Please? I'm _so_ game." What Sam wanted, _really wanted,_ was for Gabriel to keep the control he'd been taking. He wanted to give in, for Gabe to protect him and keep him safe. _And maybe take care of him._ In a lot of his past relationships, his partners had all wanted Sam to take control because he was so "big and strong" but it wasn't _him._ It was emotionally draining to have to be that way _all the time._

"Oh, Sam," Gabriel repeated, even softer than before. "I will absolutely take you home and undress you properly. I want to take such good care of you. I picked up this mint lubricant that doubles as a body lotion, and I think it would make your skin smell absolutely _divine._ "

" _Please_ ," Sam whispered. "Please take me home and make love to me."

And Gabriel did exactly that.


	22. Convergence

**AN:** This was the epilogue of Convergence (which was this arc.) This is not the end of this fic since Paradise is the whole series rather than by fic as it is on Archive of Our Own.

* * *

Gabriel woke up to the sound of Sam screaming.

After leaving the party, they'd gone back to Sam's hotel room, which had not been shared with Dean because they'd decided ahead of time to _finally_ get separate rooms.

There had been _really good_ sex, and then Gabriel had carefully cleaned them up and had held Sam until they had both fallen asleep, which had not taken very long at all because it had been a long day. But they had both been happy and _should_ have had nothing but good dreams.

But of course, things never ever happened the way that they were supposed to.

So the sound of Sam screaming woke Gabriel instantaneously, and it didn't take the archangel more than an instant to determine that Sam was twisting and shaking in the throes of a nightmare.

Which might not have been that unusual, given all the things the Winchesters had faced in their lives. The more concerning thing though, was the fact that Sam's nose had started bleeding and their bed was levitating.

 _"Rafa!"_

Trying not to panic, Gabriel gently shook Sam's shoulder. "Sam, Sam, I'm here, it's okay, wake up please, Sweetheart."

It took another minute for Sam to wake up. The second Sam's eyes opened, the bed crashed into the floor.

Gabriel winced as the shock of the bed hitting the floor caused Sam to whimper and curl in on himself. _You should have seen that coming,_ he chided himself mentally. Why else would the bed have been in the air to begin with?

"Sweetheart," he whispered, leaning towards Sam in an attempt to get his mate's attention. "Can you look at me for a second?"

"I'm sorry." If it hadn't been for the fact that he was an archangel, and paying close attention, he wouldn't have been able to hear Sam's barely muttered statement. " _I'm so sorry."_

"Oh, Sam. It's okay, Sweetheart." Sam's nose was still bleeding, and Gabriel was certain that his mate had managed to get the blood all over himself. But he didn't care, he just wanted to help, and he wasn't quite sure how. He wrapped his arms around Sam, hugging him but being careful not to shift him unnecessarily. "Does your head hurt?"

"Mhmm," Sam whimpered pitifully, pressing his forehead against Gabriel's chest.

There was definitely blood all over the sheets, Gabriel decided. And their clothing. And while that was a problem, he also really needed to figure out _why_ Sam had levitated the bed and why he was bleeding. "Do you think you can stand? I promise I won't let you fall."

Sam shrugged and shivered, like he was trying to get even closer to Gabriel, but that wasn't possible.

A few minutes later, with Gabriel's wheedling, they were both standing to the side of the bed, Gabriel more or less holding Sam upright. They had been naked, but when they'd crawled out of the bed Gabriel had decided that they should at the very least be wearing shirts and boxers, for Raphael's benefit, because he just knew that his brother would arrive any second to find out what the fuss was all about. They were also wearing flannel pajama bottoms, because Gabriel loved soft things and thought his mate might appreciate it in the cold of the room.

Gabriel had also conjured a washcloth because Sam's nose was still bleeding profusely and he wasn't sure what to do about that. He didn't know very much about that kind of ailment. Sam was holding the washcloth under his nose and resting his forehead on the top of Gabriel's head.

A moment later there was a flash of light. Sam winced, closing his eyes as it sent a wave of fresh pain through his head. Unwillingly, a whimper escaped.

"Gabri'el? What happened?"

The light cleared, revealing that the speaker was Raphael. His tone of voice conveyed that he was concerned.

"I don't know." Gabriel spoke quietly, shifting his head to look directly at Raphael. "Sam woke up screaming and his nose won't stop bleeding. And our bed was levitating! There's no way that's normal."

Raphael gave them both a look of consideration, and then approached. "Samuel, can you sit on the edge of the bed for me, please?" He put a hand on Sam's arm and waited as Gabriel let go and Sam sat carefully down.

"I'm not, dying, am I?" Sam asked, looking up at the healer.

"I don't believe so," the Healer denied. "Samuel, do you have any thoughts as to what happened?"

Sam shrugged. "I was just having a nightmare-" he swallowed, curling forward slightly. "It felt like the visions I started having a few years ago." A fearful expression crossed his face as he looked down. _He didn't want to look at them._ Disgust at himself curled in the pit of his stomach. "But those were from the demon blood, killing Azazel made them stop."

"I know that you haven't ingested any demon blood in more than a year" Raphael began, "but would you me let take a quick look inside you? I won't look inside your mind, but I'd like to see if I can tell what happened. So we know what happened."

"Okay," Sam said. He trusted Gabriel and he trusted Raphael and he saw no reason not to consent. He _wanted_ to know what was going on with his body and this was the best way to find out.

Raphael put a hand on Sam's forehead and time temporarily stopped. At least for Sam, and his mate.

Sam didn't feel Raphael reading him like a book, so it felt like only an instant had passed between Raphael putting the hand on his forehead and then pulling away. However, his nose was no longer bleeding and the blood in the towel has dried.

"Do you know what happened?" Gabriel asked.

Raphael nodded. "Nothing life-threatening. But, Sam, you may not like this. I swear to you that it's not bad, and that there is absolutely nothing wrong about you because of this, but I also know that it might be scary."

Sam looked like he might try to tell Raphael to just spit it out already, but Raphael continued before he could. "Being the supposed True Vessel of Lucifer has nothing to do with being fed the demon blood. It also has nothing to do with what Lucifer and Michael ever wanted. They're happy in their current vessels, they could easily get the knowledge to make their own vessels if they desired, so there is no true necessity behind you being apart of this blood line. One of the things that is notable about this bloodline, however, is that there is a greater chance of a descendant being psychic. As the True Vessel of Lucifer, your body and soul had to be born comparable to Lucifer such that seeing him would not destroy you. But that would also allow you to see less powerful things that most humans would miss. You were born with those powers. They're yours. The demon blood given to you as a baby was designed to warp those powers, twisting them and manipulating them until they no longer belonged to you. Releasing Lucifer burned through all of it, including what you were manipulated into ingesting later. But Azazel had tried so hard to bind your powers. But something else happened yesterday, didn't it?"

Sam frowned. "The mate bond?"

"Archangels were designed to live forever, Sam. Our beings are tied to the very fabric of the universe. For any one of us to die- it would implode entirely. The rest of the angels are resilient, but not in the same way. And then there are humans. Beautiful creatures, frail and delicate, but infinitely creative. You have souls, not grace, to sustain you. Never underestimate the power of a soul. Souls can exist forever. Some souls go to hell, some to Heaven, but most souls in either situation simply exist there, not unlike the afterlife for angels and demons, which is an endless sleep that is in theory designed to rejuvenate them until they are ready to return to face their destiny. I don't know what that might be, it doesn't matter. What matters, Sam, is that your soul was designed to host an infinite undying archangel and you've created a bond mate with a different one. Angels and archangels mate for life and it is not possible to sever that bond. Nor will you want to. But what I'm trying to say is that the mate bond burned through any demon blood there might have been and destroyed the demonic tampering because it's not compatible. And because your psychic abilities are tied to your soul's archangelic compatibility, there's no way for you to safely be rid of them."

Sam tried to follow and comprehend what the healer was saying, but while his head did feel much better, most of it wasn't making very much sense. Except the last part. "There's no way to get rid of the freaky demon powers?! No! _No!_ "

Gabriel sat on Sam's other side, wrapping his arms around his mate. "Sam, Sweetheart, they're not freaky or demonic. They're _yours_ and it's okay."

"I would recommend meditation," Raphael added. "You'll have to decide for yourself whether or not you want to use them, but you'll need to learn the basics so they're not uncontrolled. The migraines and nosebleeds are caused because using them this way is not unlike straining a muscle you've never used before." He moved his hand and a second later he was holding a thick tome and a metal spoon. "Your powers have included telekinesis in the past, yes? I would like you to practice bending this spoon with your mind, a little bit each day. _After_ meditating."

"You want me to practice bending _this_ spoon with my mind?" Would any spoon work? Sam wondered. Or was there something special about this specific spoon?

"It doesn't have to be that one, but I thought you might like something solely for this purpose."

Sam raised an eyebrow at the Healer, then started at the spoon. He wasn't happy about this, but he could see the point. Control the powers, or they would control him. Bend the spoon. Or the spoon would bend him? No. Sam sighed, leaning to the side with a yawn.

"Should I come back in the morning? You should sleep."

"Thanks, Raph. I think we're good here." Gabriel sat next to Sam as Raphael flew away. "We'll figure this out, okay Sam? In the meantime, let's get you back into bed."

* * *

Deep within the depths of darkness, where no light could reach, there was a presence. she had been there since before time could be measured, before the creation of the Earth, before even the creation of the angels.

For nearly an eternity, she had been left alone, with no outside contact, no sign of anything surviving the wrath of her Brother, and no hope of ever escaping.

After so many years, she had been certain that she would never see the darling boy that was her nephew ever again.

But then, there was a sound.

A small cry, echoing through the abyss, full of pain and fear. It begged for someone, anyone, to hear it, and to help the one who had called out. she had heard that sound before, long ago, before she had been cast into the depths and bid to never return. Then, she hadn't been able to help, but there was no way that she wouldn't help now.

For the first time in an eternity, she reached out with the power she held, and began her rise towards the light. No more would she be imprisoned within the darkness that she held sway over, to remain away from the one she loved more than any other.

No, she was free, and she would bring about the justice that was owed to any that her Brother had harmed.


	23. Reunion: Amara

When the most ancient Being broke free of Her supposedly unbreakable prison, the archangels had great reason to be afraid. Her grace as most like His, and their fear of Him was infinite. It was paralysing.

Michael was napping, his mate and siblings all within reach. The unfamiliar grace in Heaven stirred the others into surrounding Michael and Lucifer. Gabriel had taken Samandriel to Earth or they would have also surrounded the fledgling, and Castiel was with Dean.

The instincts of the archangels were specific. Protect the sick and the young, and those who could not safely protect themselves. The archangel fledgling Lucifer carried was an innocent. They were Michael's fledgling, but the instincts of the flock insisted the child was the responsibility of them all, just like Raphael's fledgling, Sami, was looked after by all of them. The child of one archangel was the child of all the archangels.

They did not know She meant them no harm. Only Michael would have remembered Her and he was sleeping, soundly content with the feeling of his siblings' warmth surrounding him and his.

The other archangels spoke not a word. Their grace actively reinforced the warding on the room, but the wards were untested. They could in theory keep out God, but what if He, or She, actually went at the wards with their full strength? Could anything really keep out the creator of the universe? Or His sister?

she did not break the wards. she did not understand why there were so many of _them_ but from outside their wards, she could see them. she could feel the one she was looking for at the center of them, but what was even more obvious to her was the fear.

The grace holding the wards quaked with it, and their posture in lying around the center, they were defending hers with their bodies. They feared the worst was about to happen. h _er,_ they feared _her_. Why? she would never ever have hurt any of the beings He had created, had not even stood for Him laying a hand on His eldest child.

she could tell that the five beings in the room and at least one small grace she could not quite guess at the purpose of were all creations of His. (With the possible exception of the small grace(s?).) But it was too small to be a being yet, smaller than the creations He had been making but were unfinished at the time she had been cast out.

And they were frightened. she had been cast out for protecting the eldest from Him and she could only guess at what he had continued doing, not only to His eldest creation, but to the others as well. This was learned fear. _What had He done?_

The archangels curled on the floor didn't know what to do. They couldn't see Her through the walls and wards, didn't want to. They cowered, hoping, wishing, but never praying, that perhaps, just maybe, they wouldn't die today. But if She wanted to hurt them- there was no doubt in the minds of any of them that she was more than capable of it.

End the world- it would. But if She truly wanted an end to all of His Creations- it would be relatively easy. They had nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. The instinct to protect Lucifer and Michael wouldn't let them leave, either.

And waking Michael was not an option. If the world was going to end- Michael would never know. They firmly believed that was how it was supposed to be.

The universe seemed to freeze. Three terrified and paralyzed archangels refusing to move and Her, seeming content to watch indefinitely without making any movement, hostile or otherwise.

It's impossible to say what exactly woke Michael. The fear in his siblings' graces, Her grace, the baby. But somehow, he woke, and he recognized the tension. He observed, taking in all of his surrounding and trying to make sure he understood.

And then he did. "Auntie Ama!" he shouted. He scrambled out from underneath the bodies of the other archangels and climbed over them as he rushed through the wards to hug the teenage girl standing just beyond the door. "Auntie Ama."

The teenager hesitated for a moment but then she wrapped Her arms around him. "Mikha," she said, quietly. There was worry and relief in her voice. "What happened to your wing?"

Michael leaned back, eying her warily. "Nothing?" he tried, not really trying to believe it himself and not really trusting she'd buy it.

"Mikha… don't lie to me."

The archangel gave her a grim smile. He'd been too young to really remember anything more complicated than the fact that one day she and the creator had been screaming at each other and then he never saw her again.

But he did remember that Amara had never once failed to see through his lies. "I… I wouldn't tell the Creator where Gabriel went. I was protecting him, he's my baby brother."

she tightened her arms around Michael, and glanced behind him at the other beings in the room. They had all shifted to watch in morbid curiosity.

They were all still utterly afraid and she wanted nothing more than to hug them and assure them that she meant absolutely not harm to them. she was not her Brother. No. He'd imprisoned her for standing up when He'd been too rough with a very young Mikha.

"Where, where were you?" Michael swallowed, not sure whether or not he really wanted to know. He'd had suspicions, but the Creator had never said. He'd implied she'd abandoned him, but it was clear now that the manipulations had been rampant, if not clear exactly how much so.

"He locked me away. But I finally freed myself. I was worried about you."

Michael nodded. It made sense to him that He would have done such a thing. "You haven't met my mate, or my siblings, yet." He pulled out of her hug, but reached to take her hand and led her to meet Heylel and the rest of the archangels.

* * *

Michael trusted Amara easily. He remembered her and how not only had she protected him, but her rooms had become the one place he associated with safety. There was a reason he had built a nest in the room that had once been hers.

The rest of his family did not trust her so easily, not when her existence felt so strongly of His and dug up their terror that He would return with the intention of bringing them further pain. The three younger archangels watched in trepidation as Michael led her over to Heylel, introducing her to his mate and the unborn baby.

Once Amara had been introduced to Heylel, Michael introduced her to each of their younger brothers one at a time. Raphael was introduced next so that he could make sure that the stress of Amara's appearance hadn't hurt Heylel or the baby.

"Ouch!"

Michael had just finished introducing Amara to the last of the archangels when Raphael yelped. A glance in their direction revealed that Heylel had doubled over and had gripped Raphael's arm harder than intended. The pregnant archangel was looking sheepish, but pained.

Michael moved to his mate. "Heyl? Are you okay?"

"Hurts," Heylel managed between gasping breaths.

"Is the baby coming?" Amara asked.

Raphael blanched.

* * *

"Mikha didn't say why but he wants me to come back to Heaven." Gabriel ran his fingers through Sam's hair. He was lying on his back on the bed and Sam was curled next to him, using him as a pillow. "I _could_ just ignore him."

"Think he might have answers to why I've been dreaming about being sad and cold and dark?" Sam folded himself even smaller, trying to get as close to Gabriel as physically possible. It was late at night but sleeping was a no go because he'd already woken up from a nightmare.

Samandriel slept on the foot of the bed, curled up in one of Sam's blankets. It was nothing short of a miracle that Sam had not woken him.

"I'm picking up what feels like a strange presence in Heaven, but Mikha sounded genuinely exuberant. He wouldn't have sounded like that if anything was amiss." Gabriel draped his other arm over Sam. His mate sought tactile comfort but often never thought to ask for it, but that was okay. He could read Sam's non-verbal request not to be left alone.

"No one knows how long Heylel's pregnancy could be, right? His going into labor would be a cause for celebration."

"It's possible." Gabriel leaned his head back, studying the ceiling. "I could take you to see them, if you'd like to go?"

Sam liked Mikha and Heylel, but he was also mentally exhausted and the after effects of waking up from a realistic nightmare hadn't gone away yet. But if Heylel _had_ gone into labor, then maybe seeing them safe and healthy would provide some comfort.

* * *

Gabriel held the still sleeping Sami and flew Sam directly to the big family nest and what they found was about what they were expecting.

Raphael was in one corner of the room, trembling while trying to remain as still as possible. He had paled significantly and also looked as though he might faint. A woman who looked like a teenager was sitting next to him and talking quietly.

Mikha and Heylel were sitting on the floor. Heylel was holding a bundle wrapped in a dark green blanket and Mikha was leaning over them and tickling the bundle while making silly faces.

Aziraphale and his Crowley were out of the way, keeping an eye on the woman and their brothers. Seeing Gabriel's arrival, Aziraphale walked over.

"Is your brother okay?" Sam asked quietly to Gabriel, referring to Raphael. He was excited at the prospect of Heylel having given birth, but he was also concerned about the distressed archangel in the corner of the room. Slightly more concerning though, was the woman with him. "Gabe," he whispered, "she looks like the woman from my dream."

"I don't know who she is," Gabriel whispered. But his tone didn't convey any worry about that. If Michael and Heylel were at ease enough to allow her into the nest when Heylel had given birth, and none of their siblings were putting up a fight, it meant that the likeliness of her meaning any harm were zilch. "I don't think we should disturb Rafa right now. Instead, let's go check on Mikha and Heylel."

"I can hold Sami," Azi offered, relieving the archangel of the sleeping fledgling before Gabriel headed towards Michael and Heylel.

Sam followed Gabriel across the room in the direction of the eldest archangels. He wanted to see the child of archangels, but there was also a small part of him that worried that even though Michael and Heylel had been increasingly friendly with him, they wouldn't want the likes of _him_ here for this.

His fears were unfounded, of course. "Sam! Gabriel! You came!" Michael beamed at them when he looked up from the baby. "You have to come meet Talia!"

"May I hold Talia?" Gabriel asked, looking not at Michael, but at Heylel.

Heylel nodded in consent, and gently passed Gabriel the baby. "Hi, baby," he cooed. "I'm your Uncle Gabe."

The baby spat bubbles at Gabriel and Gabriel cooed.

"Sam, are you alright?" Heylel asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Sam said, brushing it aside. This was a joyous occasion and he didn't get to bring it down. "Just tired, haven't been sleeping well."

"Do you want to hold Talia, Sam?" Gabriel asked.

"I think I'd better pass," Sam said. If he was coming down with something, then he really shouldn't be putting himself in a position to spread it to a defenseless.

A glance in the direction of Raphael revealed that the woman Sam didn't know had moved away from him so Sam decided to approach.

"Hey, Sam." The Healer sounded achingly weary and for a moment, Sam wondered if he'd made a mistake wandering over. It was obvious that the archangel wasn't okay, that meant that he should probably not be bothered. It wasn't _that_ hard to figure out what had probably happened. Raphael had already told Sam that he was worried he wouldn't be able to deliver Heylel's baby. Either he _had_ been able to do it, or he hadn't been able to, which could have had something to do with the new woman. _Though not why she looked remarkably familiar._

"Do you need anything?" Sam asked instead.

"I don't need anything," the archangel answered. "But if you'd like to sit, I'd welcome the company."

Sam sat. He was bone achingly exhausted, but he had no idea whether or not he would actually be able to sleep. Not with the memories of the nightmares still so close to the surface.

They sat in silence for a few minutes and then the woman returned. "Hello," she said shyly, standing almost directly in front of Sam.

 _That voice._

"Sam, this is our Aunt Amara."

Sam reached out to shake her hand, looking up to make eye contact with her.

 _Sam was frozen. It was a cold and dark abyss. There was only fear that the one he was closest to was hurting and that there was nothing he would be able to do about it._

The cold hands on his wrists shook the vision from his sight, leaving him nauseous and trembling. With Gabriel's mate bond, he was incapable of feeling entirely alone, but the emotion behind the daymare almost overwhelmed it.

"You don't need to see my past, Samuel, that is not for you." She was not chastising him, and the warmth of her tone was surprising, but welcome.

 _Her past?_ Sam was still not sure who she was, other than that Raphael had called her Aunt Amara, let alone why it was her past that had featured in his nightmares lately. How did she even know what his vision had been of?

"Here Sam, hold Talia for a minute." Before Sam could object, the newborn was more or less dropped into his lap. It was sheer luck she ended up in his arms and not on the floor.

Sam froze, waiting for Talia to scream her displeasure. What right did he have to hold such a pure and beautiful creature?

Talia didn't scream. She blinked several times, a confused expression on her face, but she did not scream. Her eyes screwed shut as though she were about to scream, but then she yawned. Less than a minute later she was asleep. The only difference Sam could make out between her and a typical newborn were her creamy yellow wings.

Sam was too exhausted for this. He wanted to believe that Gabriel was infallible and therefore he should trust that his mate knew what he was doing in handing him Talia, but it wasn't so easy. Not when he'd spent so much of his life believing he deserved absolutely nothing.

No one tried to take the sleeping baby from Sam and he would have protested if anyone had tried. Leaning against Raphael, he felt cozy and the positive feeling was welcome. So welcome that he didn't try to fight the sleep that came with the soft chill of Amara's hands.

* * *

Sam had slept and slept. At some point, Amara had insisted Raphael move so she could hold the sleeping human and while Raphael hadn't needed to move, sitting motionless for more than five hours wasn't exactly comfortable.

Sam had now been asleep for more than 9 hours and Gabriel was looking pretty worried, so Raphael approached.

"Why is Sam so tired?" Raphael asked. He had seen the large bags under Sam's eyes but this seemed unusual. "Have the two of you been too busy to sleep?"

Gabriel sighed. He knew what his brother was alluding to, but he also knew that Raphael didn't _really_ want any insight into their (pretty nonexistent) sex life. "The nightmares have been bad enough that he's only been getting about two or three hours of sleep each night. But I'm glad to see he's getting more sleep now. Even if I am a little worried about it."

"If the return of his visions has spiked his anxiety, it's possible the increase in nightmares is related. Has he mentioned whether or not he wants me to try to make a medication for him?"

Gabriel shook his head. "It's not a decision to be made lightly and I don't want to pressure him into anything. With everything that's been going on, it's possible that he forgot your offer."

"He had seemed positively inclined towards my finding a medication for him, but he could have changed his mind." Raphael looked back towards Gabriel's sleeping mate. "Perhaps this is a sign that his nightmares will start decreasing." But even as he said it, he knew that wasn't going to be the case.

More like the calm before the storm.

* * *

The baby was gone when Sam awoke and he couldn't help the feeling of disappointment that followed the momentary panic before finding that the baby was safe in the arms of one of the other archangels.

Sam swallowed. He didn't have any right to feel disappointment. The baby wasn't _his_. And yet, it stung mildly, and he _regretted_ having fallen asleep in the first place.

"Sam."

He yanked his gaze away from Talia and Heylel to find that Gabriel was crouching next to him. "Talia woke up and was about to start crying because she was hungry so Heylel took her back before she could wake you. Rafa and I agreed that you needed to sleep, and you did."

Sam yawned. What was he supposed to say to that? The rest of the disappointment shifted into shame. _Clearly he didn't deserve their kindness._

"Sam, do you think you can eat something?" Raphael was no longer sitting on the other side of him, but had walked back over.

"I'm not hungry."

"You slept for 16 hours, Sam," Gabriel said. "Do you think you can try to drink some of this tomato soup for me?"

Sam felt nauseous, but he relented because he was a little thirsty. The first few swallows didn't go down well, but they did stimulate his appetite enough to eat the entire bowl of soup and both halves of grilled cheese sandwich.

He wasn't sure they actually made him feel better though.

Almost as soon as he had pushed aside the tray, Amara placed Talia back in his lap. The fledgling was awake and cooed happily at him.

Gabriel sat cross-legged in front of Sam with their knees brushing. "We can stay as long as you'd like, or we can leave when you're ready."

Sam glanced to where Sami was playing with Aziraphale and Samael. "Has Samandriel gotten to meet the new baby yet?"

"Raphael introduced him after he woke up from his nap."

"We could babysit him on Earth again for awhile," Sam suggested.

"It's sweet of you to offer," Raphael said, walking up behind Sam. "But it looks like he's having fun over there right now. You and my brother should go have some nice alone time instead."

"Okay." Sam brushed Talia's shoulder gently, then passed her to Raphael. "Gabriel? We can go now, if you're ready." It wasn't that he _really_ wanted to go, but while he knew that Raphael or any of the other archangels would _never_ suggest that he was ever unwelcome in Heaven, he still felt as though Raphael had just invited him to leave and he wasn't going to decline, even if he wanted to stay.

"We don't have to go," Gabriel said quietly, a reminder that he had a choice.

But Sam shook his head. He was finally feeling less lethargic and Raphael's suggestion felt like a good one. He _had_ been missing quality alone time with Gabriel.

* * *

Gabriel leaned against his sleeping mate and pressed his nose against the top of Sam's head. The lavender scent from the shampoo Dean had left was subtle and pleasant. He just hoped it helped.

With a gentle kiss to Sam's head, the archangel shifted back onto the pile of pillows he and Sam had been reclining on. All the bedding was Sam's mating presents, grace infused pillows and blankets from all the other archangels.

 _They spoiled the humans. Sam and Dean both. And his mate deserved it. Deserved the motherfucking world._

He glanced at the stapled packet in his hand. It didn't have a title written on it, but he knew what it was. It had been left on the bedside table with the shampoo, obviously by Dean, while he and Sam had been visiting Heaven.

Sam had been more wide awake and energetic and horny when they'd come back than he'd been in awhile, but it hadn't been a surprise when he'd fallen asleep in the bath following several rounds of lovemaking.

Gabriel wished that it was not so difficult for Sam to relax, but he understood. Even so, now that Sam was asleep, he read the packet.

 _The Care and Keeping of your Samoose,_ he thought fondly, though those words were scribbled nowhere. The title fit, though, as the packet was exactly that.

Dean had written pages and pages on Sam's habits. Favorite foods, favorite songs, stories of the kind of trouble he'd gotten into as a kid.

There was an entire section on various methods once used to get an insomniac Sam to sleep.

As well as a detailed account of every sickness Sam had ever had. And several pages clearly hacked from Stanford detailing Sam's diagnosed mental health problems and subsequent prescription medications.

Gabriel was shocked because this here was the clearest thing he could have ever received from the older Winchester that suggested _Dean Winchester_ trusted _him_ with his baby brother. Containing information that Gabriel _knew_ Sam hadn't given Dean before.

Needless to say, Gabriel read the whole document and then reread it a second time, annotating it as he did so. He loved Sam, and knew that Dean had had far too much responsibility as a child when it came to taking care of Sammy. So the least he could do to repay Dean was to make use of the decades worth of information collected, especially if there was something he could use to help Sam _now_.

* * *

Gabriel had barely put his pens down when Sam started screaming in his sleep.

"Sam," he whispered quietly, reaching for his mate. He wasn't going to shake Sam with any vigor but he would try to ground him.

 _When Sam turned 11, he started suffering night terrors. It didn't take long for them to stop, but sometimes driving around the block soothed him when nothing else would. In retrospect, given the frequency and severity of the demon blood visions, I wonder if there was some connection._

If Sam hadn't already been suffering nightmares, then this level of intensity had been reached following the consummated mate bond which had… Reawakened the psychic powers.

"Sam," Gabriel repeated. "Please wake up."

Sam screamed again but it was interrupted by his back arching and his eyes popping open.

Gabriel kissed Sam. Sam's eyes were glazed and confused, haunted and terrified, and there was nothing he wanted more than to be able to fix everything, but he couldn't. So he kissed his mate and focussed on filling the mate bond between them with his love and support for Sam.

"Gabriel?" Sam choked when Gabriel had to pull back to keep from suffocating the love of his immortal life.

"I love you," Gabriel whispered, pressing a kiss to Sam's forehead. "You know that, right?"

"Mhmm." He snuggled into Gabriel's side.

"I know this is scary, but can you _show_ me the dream?" Gabriel didn't want to ask, didn't want to _have_ to ask for anything that could or would hurt Sam, but he had to _know._

And Sam did.

 _It was a shivering and unseeing thing with no name with which to call itself, in a space smaller than itself, which it had to be inside because otherwise Bad Things happened, and its back_ ached.

"Sam… have all your nightmares been about this creature?"

"I don't know. It's always dark, but there's a variance to it. Like sometimes it feels as though the dark the person is in is vast beyond space and time while other times it's like this. And sometimes… sometimes it seems like I'm seeing something in multiple ages."

"I'm not sure what Aunt Amara meant about you seeing her past, but that wasn't a human child, Sam. And that wasn't her as a kid."

"No?"

"That was a _fledgling_ , Sam."


	24. Reunion: Sam

**AN:** Warning for 2 slight mentions of vomit in this chapter.

* * *

The archangels had no idea what to do.

Samandriel was still crying after a nightmare had woken him up and Heylel was holding a restless Talia, who they assumed had been disturbed by Sami's terror and unease.

Raphael's fledgling was mostly curled up in Michael's lap, though he also had Raphael's shirt clenched in his fist.

"Sweetheart," Raphael whispered as he rubbed Sami's back. "Can you tell us about your nightmare?"

"Injured fledgling," Sami whimpered, sobbing harder. "Cold and dark and all alone. They're injured and squeezed in a space too small and there's so much _pain_."

This was not the first they'd heard of this nightmare from the fledgling, but they'd hoped that with Talia's birth, they'd be able to convince Sami more easily that it was _just_ a nightmare, because that's all it was, wasn't it?

* * *

Sam was completely wrung out, and yet still too wired for sleep. Not that Gabriel could blame him, but as he brushed the hair off Sam's sweat covered brow, he really wished there was _something_ that he could do to help.

As it stood, Gabriel was reclining on the bed and Sam was curled next to him, his head in his archangel's lap. There was some rock music playing quietly, but it was the only background noise.

"I'm sorry," Sam whined at some point. "You probably wanted to bond with your niece and here you are, stuck keeping me company."

"Sam, I'm exactly where I want to be," Gabriel promised. "Although, you did seem to sleep pretty well in Heaven yesterday. Would you want to spend some more time in the big nest? You're welcome whenever you want."

"Not right now." Sam shivered, so Gabriel folded some of the blankets over Sam an extra time to provide more warmth.

An idea struck the archangel, and he couldn't believe he hadn't tried it yet. Slowly, he manifested his wings on the physical plane. "Will you help me groom my wings?" They didn't really need it because his siblings were sickeningly tactile and once he'd molted, his feathers had never ever looked better.

But he didn't want Sam to _actually_ groom them. He wanted to provide his mate with a plausible distraction that should have also provided him some comfort and hopefully with the understanding that he was worth _the universe_ because he didn't just go around showing them to any old person.

"Really? You want _me_ to groom them?"

Gabriel had had no _idea_ that Sam could sound so hopeful and disbelieving at the same time, and yet it didn't surprise him. Instead of answering, he maneuvered a wing so that the tip was mere inches from Sam's fingers. "It's _more_ than okay for you to touch."

Sam was tentative at first, but eventually he sank his fingers into the plumage. Gabriel thought it felt _divine_ and couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather have Sam's fingers, with the possible exception of massaging the oil ducts. But Sam wasn't ready for that yet.

Gabriel showed Sam the proper way to groom an angel's wings, and in under half an hour Sam was asleep. He could tell that it wasn't much deeper than a light doze, but he also knew that they had to take what they could get.

* * *

 _Something was wrong._ Gabriel knew that even before the screaming started, though except for the sudden dread pooling in his stomach, he couldn't have explained how or why he knew that.

And then Sam screamed. Except it wasn't like the screaming that came from the rest of the nightmares. Sure, each dream had brought enough terror with it that made each subsequent attempt at falling asleep _that much more difficult_ but this wasn't a scream of simple bone chilling terror.

The first difference was that Gabriel could make out a word, this time. The word was "No." But Sam wasn't _just_ shouting "no" at the top of his lungs.

No, Sam was screaming in a way that he was never supposed to, but had already done far too many times. It was the scream of one who had lost something they held dear, the sound of one whose heart was being torn to pieces, after everything they had done to try and keep it together. It was a haunting noise, one of ultimate suffering, and one that Gabriel hoped to never hear from his mate ever again.

He'd heard the sound from Sam when he'd killed Dean on that horrible Wednesday at the Mystery Spot. And again when Lilith's Hellhounds had dragged Dean's soul to Hell. He'd made a point of being as far away as he possibly could get, but he'd still heard it. _Everyone, had heard it._

There was nothing Gabriel could do to wake Sam, and that wasn't the end of it. The gut-wrenching scream didn't _stop_. Not until the door slammed open and Dean was halfway across the room.

The screaming stopped then, as Sam's eyes flew open and he threw up on himself.

* * *

"We need to go," Jormungandr said, turning on his heel and storming out of the motel room they had been standing in for under a minute and a half.

"But we just got here," Fenrir whined, even as he turned to follow his sibling. "We don't even know what that was all about."

"Whatever that was, trust me when I say it's bad news. Samuel isn't up for company, apology of not."

"I still don't see why you think I should do the apologizing. I'm not the one who changed the alcohol proof."

"Dad deserves an apology, _from you_. We were all worried after what Kali did, but you insulted Dad's mate before you ever even met him."

"You haven't met him yet either," Fen grumbled. "And what part of that is you 'withholding judgement' or whatever?" He scoffed. "Hypocrite."

Jor stopped moving, sighed, then turned around. "Tell me what you got out of the aura of the room, and I'll tell you why we need to go get Hela and do _something_."

Fenrir shrugged. "Dad's worried about Sam. I smelled sleeplessness and terror. That obviously wasn't the first nightmare and it's not going to be the last." He used his fingers as he made each statement like checkmarks on a list. "The omnipresent darkness wasn't great. Was that from picking up on the edges of the nightmare?"

"I understand from the grapevine that Sam's more or less a psychic. Probably more. But it wasn't just a nightmare. It would seem that he's picking up on something like a supernatural child, not unlike how Dad found us but much worse and the nightmares aren't going to stop. Not now."

"You want Hela to track the kid. To what end?"

"Fen, there's a kid out there in so much agony that it's _destroying_ Dad's mate. There doesn't have to be an agenda. Although maybe it would make a good peace offering and Dad won't really ground us for the next millennia?"

"I'm only in because I like a good adventure and maybe Hela will stop it with the dirty looks."

"You're both idiots," Hela said. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, glaring at them. "But I'll help because I like Sam. And even _I_ could hear that scream of ultimate suffering."

* * *

There was nothing Dean hated more than seeing his brother like this. The need to vomit had apparently woken Sam up from the worst screaming Dean had ever heard from him, but he was so out of it and more afraid than he'd ever seen his baby brother.

And he had _no idea_ how to help, especially when even Gabriel seemed to be at a loss.

"Did you need something?" Gabriel asked in his direction. He hadn't made any attempt to lower his voice, so it was a testament to how out of it Sam was that he didn't seem to notice it.

"I had a few notes for the packet I left." He fidgeted. Aim him at whatever creature was hurting civilians, he could find a way to kill it. But he had no idea how to deal with this kind of thing. It was almost like the Ghost Sickness all over again, except worse because it was affecting _Sam_. "You said he slept well in Heaven, right? Maybe… Maybe you should take him back."

The thought of the future terrified him. He _knew_ that Gabriel and his brother were the equivalent of married, for life, and that in all likelihood, they'd return to Heaven, _permanently,_ sooner or later. He and Castiel were _close_ but… He didn't really know where they stood with the rest of the archangels or what that would mean for them and he wasn't ready to think about it yet.

"Sam said he wasn't ready to go back yet and I want to respect that decision," Gabriel said.

"Sammy never agrees to what's best for himself because he's a stubborn little bitch, but if he wasn't like that, he wouldn't be my little brother. Sometimes it seems as though he says no to the things he wants the most in an attempt to punish himself for having desires in the first place." Dean could see Gabriel's hesitance in his eyes, so he pulled the trump card. "Cas said Heylel gave birth to a beautiful little fledgling, and Sam loves kids. He can pass on my congratulations when he's up there, and maybe the soothing atmosphere will be exactly what he needs."

It was hard for Gabriel to refuse Dean's logic, but he didn't want to move Sam when he had very little recognition as to where he was because too many people had tried to force their wills on Sam. "I'll ask Sam again when he's more coherent."

Dean nodded, knowing that was the best answer he'd get. "Oh! Two people dropped by looking for you. I didn't get their names and I think they left."

"They did leave. I know who they are, and it's nothing to worry about. I need to talk to them, but…. Sam's more important."

* * *

Once Sam had agreed to return to Heaven, Gabriel flew him back. Sam was still out of it enough that he decided that instead of flying directly into the nest, he should instead fly to the entrance of the building Michael had chosen as belonging to their flock. He hoped that walking around Heaven would help lessen Sam's turmoil.

There was also a feeling of something not quite right coming from the nest, and he wanted to be sure of what it was before subjecting his mate to it, or contributing to it.

"Do you think _he_ would know where to find it?" This line was spoken by Aziraphale as he and Crowley happened to be walking through that hallway right as Gabriel and Sam were walking into it.

"Even if he did, and I'm not saying that he could, we still haven't told anyone about him. Do you _really_ want to tell Mikha or Heylel everything we conveniently forgot about, _now_?"

"Not especially. At this point, it'll only become less convenient the longer we haven't told them."

"Haven't told Mikha what?" Gabriel asked. His brothers had just come around the corner so what they saw was Gabriel standing in the hallway with Sam leaning against him.

"Nothing?" Aziraphale tried.

"You're definitely hiding something," Gabriel said. "Someone secret, but you haven't told Mikha or Heylel about him yet, so perhaps someone from Tadfield?" Gabriel considered the two guilty looking archangels. "Are you hiding your fledgling somewhere?"

Aziraphale blushed and stammered something inaudible while shaking his head.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "We don't have a fledgling and we're not hiding them. And we don't _want_ our own children, although I can't wait for Talia to be old enough to steal away and stuff with sugar before giving her back."

"Crowley," Aziraphale scolded.

Sam laughed, though no one else did. It wasn't even that the statement was humorous except he was still so close to the absolute terror in the back of his mind that if he didn't hold on tight to this piece of hilarity, he was going to be back in tears, and that was the _last_ thing he wanted.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, but not at Sam. Rather, the eyebrow was raised in Gabriel's direction.

Gabriel thought he knew why his brother was raising an eyebrow, but he shrugged because even though the comment hadn't been very funny, it was better than anything else Sam could have done.

Crowely stepped forward towards them. He blinked at Gabriel then nodded towards the exit to the building. "Hey, Sam, back in Tadfield I keep plants. They were my hobby, right? So this one time, someone brings me a fucking banana tree. In England. _Where did they even get a fucking banana tree_?"

The rest of the story was about as nonsensical and there was no point to it, except Crowley didn't finish telling it until they were all outside and Gabriel had encouraged Sam to lie down in the garden.

"Sam, do you think you'll be okay sitting here with Crowley for a little while? I need to go talk to Michael, but it shouldn't take more than half an hour."

Crowley sat down next to Sam, who leaned over to put his head in Crowley's lap. It was a good position because he could see Gabriel quite clearly and he was so tired that it was hard to keep his head up. "Take all the time you need," Sam said. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'll be just fine."

Gabriel nodded. "Okay." The Messenger turned and walked briskly out of the garden. As soon as he was out of Sam's sight, he sprinted for the big nest. Aziraphale was not far behind.

* * *

"Sam's having visions of an injured fledgling trapped somewhere on Earth, and they're getting worse," Gabriel said as soon as he walked into the big nest.

Everyone turned to look at him. Gabriel appreciated that Samandriel and Talia were both sleeping, but this was _really_ important.

"Sami's been having a nightmare that sounds like that, but you're _sure_ it's not just a bad dream?" Raphael asked. He wasn't hopeful because it made too much sense for the fledgling and the hunter to be sharing a vision, but he had to ask.

"Sam's a psychic, sort of. If anyone was having visions about a fledgling in danger, it _would_ be him," Gabriel insisted. This was the only explanation he could think of for Sam's nightmares and it was worth investigating.

"Whose fledgling is missing?" Heylel asked. He was holding Talia and he looked sad. He and Michael had been overjoyed to have a fledgling. How could anyone lose one without them knowing about itt?

"As far as I knew, Talia was the first fledgling born after Sami," Raphael said. "That said, Sami is only still a fledgling now because of what Naomi did to his grace."

"Castiel was raised with the last group of angels, right?" Heylel asked. "Was his aging slowed to prevent anyone from knowing otherwise? Could the locks preventing Sami from growing have been used on someone else?"

"I don't _know_." Raphael's hand brushed Samandriel's head. "Azi, did anything you read in Naomi's notes suggest such a thing?"

"Not so explicitly as what she did to Cas, Sami, and you, but I can look again."

"Could someone later have simply hid that they were pregnant?" Michael asked.

"I don't think we'll know what happened until we find the missing fledgling," Gabriel said.

"We'll find them," Michael promised.

Amara was sitting on the floor and had been listening to the conversation without offering her own input. Now, she stood. "Gabriel, can I see Sam? I might be able to track the location of the fledgling through his visions."

"Sure. Sam's in the garden. But you should really ask him first because that sounds kind of invasive and he's been through a lot."

* * *

Sam was asleep in the garden when Gabriel and Amara rejoined him and Crowley.

"Any nightmares?" Gabriel asked.

"Just restless sleep."

Amara and Gabriel sat on the other side of Sam and waited. Several hours passed and there were no nightmares.

Sam blinked. He was exhausted, and if possible he was more tired than when they'd first arrived in Heaven. "Gabe?"

"Right here, Sam-a-lam." Gabriel leaned forward so he was clearly in Sam's vision. "Do you remember where we are?"

"The garden?" Sam blinked again. "How did your thing go?"

"It was okay. You remember my Aunt Amara? She was thinking she could track the fledgling in your vision, if you're okay with her trying."

"Really?! Can she try now?!"

"I can see the vision residue so it's possible. But no guarantees. It might take another vision to find it."

They walked back to the big nest. Sam leaned on Gabriel because he had developed a headache and was feeling slightly dizzy.

They walked into the big nest and had barely stepped inside when Sam doubled over, entire body spasming and blood from his nose splattering on the floor.

* * *

"Auntie Ama! Auntie Ama! I'm gonna be a brother!"

 _Sam recognized the space they were standing as the garden in front of the big nest. There was a small person who appeared to be a child about three or four and with him was the woman he recognized as Amara. The teenage appearance was only a little different as he would say that she appeared physically a few years younger. Perhaps 14 instead of 17._

"You're going to be the _best_ big brother ever, Mi." She picked the child up and bounced him on her hip.

"Did you see them?"

"Your younger siblings? No, not yet. Would you like to show me?"

"That way, Auntie Ama!"

The teenager shifted the child up onto her shoulders and then took off running in the given direction, Michael squealing in delight.

Sam wasn't sure whether or not he was supposed to follow but it didn't end up mattering because everything dissolved until he found himself somewhere else.

He was in a room this time, but not one he recognized. Michael was standing on his toes, nose pressed against the glass wall. Amara stood behind him, grinning.

The glass was blocking off another room in the building, and all Sam could see inside it was blinding light. He thought there might be two different lights, but he couldn't pick out he acute differences.

"They're so pretty, Auntie! I can't wait to get to play with them!"

A door Sam couldn't see opened, and someone else stepped into the room. "Michael! What did I tell you! You can't be in here! Amara, get out!"

Michael didn't move away from the glass, but Amara turned around to face the new arrival. She pouted. "We were just admiring your newest creations. "We're not causing any harm."

"I said get out!"

Amara took a step forward, like she would take her leave of the room, but the child didn't so much as turn around. "I wanna watch the babies! I'm gonna be the bestest big brother ever!"

Sam still couldn't see the third person in the room, but he could feel the anger and the hate.

And then He was tugging Michael away from the window by his neck. "What did you say?!"

If His voice had already been a low roar, then this was like a thunderous explosion. One that made Sam's eardrums throb even though he wasn't physically present.

"Auntie Ama said…!"

There was a harsh slap interrupting him and the echo almost seemed to shake the room.

"I don't care what Amara said! What I say goes, and I said no one was allowed in here! _Ever_!"

Sam saw the next strike before it was made and he _wished_ there was something he could do about it. It felt like being in a room with Dean and John again, except he wasn't a small 4 year old with no way of doing anything.

Except this was 6000 years in the past and if the second slap had come, there was no way for him to stop it.

It never came. It never came because Amara tackled God, forcing him to release his grip on the back of Michael's neck.

 _"Run,"_ she whispered to the sobbing fledgling archangel, the first of his kind.

"Amara!" He screamed in anger rather than any pain. "I'll kill you!"

"For what? Why would you hit your son, Brother? He did nothing wrong."

"He is mine! Not yours! You have no say in how I raise him, and it is your fault he is disobedient. In fact… I think it's time for you disappear entirely. But I won't kill you, that would be too boring."

The Entity that Sam had once believed to be the Best Higher Power, but no longer, snapped.

* * *

"What's happening to him?" Gabriel asked. He and Amara and gotten Sam situated close to the others and where Raphael could get a closer look at the then spasming human.

He wasn't spasming now, but he was disturbingly still and his color was pale. They hadn't been able to staunch the bloody nose, either, so Gabriel was sure that he had seen healthier dead bodies.

"He's having a vision and his nose is bleeding because of the muscle strain. Has he been practicing with the spoon?"

"He hasn't been sleeping because of the nightmares so the spoon exercise more or less never happened." Gabriel didn't blame Sam for that one. It had been a pretty weird instruction.

"Maybe we'll try it when he's feeling better. This isn't a good sleep, it's more like he's unconscious." Raphael glanced at Amara. "Can you tell if it's another vision of the fledgling, and if so, find it?"

Amara shook her head. "It isn't the fledgling. I don't know why he would be, but it feels like he's having another vision of my past."

Gabriel gave her a wry smile. "If anyone can get into places they're not supposed to be, it's Sam."

Michael ran a hand gently against Sam's back. "He feels so worn through. Taut like a string ready to snap, but also one ready to break from the force of friction."

Sam's back arched hard enough that every joint cracked one after the other, and then he was bonelessly lying down again.

"Well that was weird," Raphael commented idly, but he didn't look worried about it.

* * *

 _It was cold and dark, in a vast emptiness that did not surprise Sam because he had been here before. This was not the vision of the injured fledgling because this was Her prison._

"You should not be here."

It was hard to turn around in an infinite space of no gravity, but somehow Sam managed. "I'm not really here, how can you see me?"

"Time has never existed in this place. It was my home for eons before it was ever to be my prison."

"So what is it?" Sam asked, confused. "Where are we?"

"There in an entity outside the chaos containing Heaven, Hell, and Earth called The Empty. Like Michael and the other archangels are the creations of my Brother, The Empty was mine."

"Didn't Gabriel say something about angels who died going to The Empty?" Sam couldn't remember what Gabriel's exact words had been, but he was sure they had been important. If he wasn't really here, how could his head hurt _so much?_

"I created The Empty before my Brother ever thought about creating Michael. But I mentioned that time does not exist here, and it's not linear. I know who you are because we have met, though chronologically Earth hasn't been created yet. My Brother hurt all of the children he ever created and I wanted to give them a place to rest where no one could ever bother them again, so I did."

"And this prison is also outside the chaos?" Sam asked.

"This is where I was when I created The Empty. I can't currently leave because He has imprisoned me here. But I will escape, someday." The Entity smiled, or at least, Sam thought she was smiling. "But that much I think you already know."

"If you never escape, I'll never meet you. But we have met." Sam blinked. "But you already knew that."

Even though it was too dark for Sam to see anything, he thought there was a hint of mirth in her eyes.

"My Brother is believed by your kind to be all powerful and all knowing. We are having this discussion in my prison, and trust me when I say that I remember meeting you before. It's time for you to go because this is not what you're looking for. But I hope you find it."

"The fledgling!" Sam shouted, remembering even though he felt disconnected and like something was about to change again. "I have to find them!"

"The sudden cry of an injured fledgling was why I finally left my prison. But I didn't expect it to not be Michael. It's one thing to know what a future might hold and quite another to find yourself suddenly in the middle of it."

"Can you find the fledgling?"

"I wish that I could, Samuel. But his presence is blocked to me."

Sam swallowed. _That was bad._ "If you can't find him, how will I?"

"The how doesn't matter. You need to leave now, but listen to me. I trust that you _will_ find the fledgling."

The darkness that he could see through became pixelated, and piece by piece, lights were added.

 _Everything hurt. His face was both wet and sticky. It felt like his nose was broken and his eardrums had ruptured. And that was even before the migraine that felt like it encompassed his entire forehead and eye sockets._

"'Lo?" he croaked. "Am I dead?" He was probably in too much pain to be dead, unless he was being tortured in Hell, but that was probably worse than this.

"He's awake!" someone shouted loudly enough that it made the bells in his ears ring even louder and he flinched away from the noise sharply enough that his head cracked loudly into the floor, and he couldn't help the resulting scream.

Except it wasn't really a scream because he was pretty sure that he had never been so hoarse in his life.

"You're very much alive, Sam."

The whisper was unusual for that voice, but it was not possible for Sam to mistake it. He croaked something that was supposed to be something joyous and he reached out where the voice had come from. He grabbed at his mate's shirt and _tugged_. _"Come here_. _"_

Gabriel yielded and a second later he was tucked carefully under Sam's entire body.

"Not that I don't appreciate the love, but why are you using me as a full body pillow?"

"Shhhh," Sam snarled, then buried his head into Gabriel's body. It was too bright and loud and he couldn't think.

He _knew_ he was missing something important. The connection between God, Amara, the fledgling she couldn't find, and the archangels. But it was evading what few mental processes weren't focussed on the overwhelming agony. And on top of that, he felt so lightheaded.

"Sam, I know you're uncomfortable, but can you drink this for me? You've lost a lot of blood and I'm sure your head is in agony."

Sam opened his mouth because he respected the healer and he appreciated that it was a straw that entered his mouth because there was no way he could have used a cup without spilling it on himself.

The liquid that came through the straw tasted like good water and even though it didn't instantly relieve any of his aches and pains, it did help his parched throat.

Sam turned his head away when the liquid was gone. He was so fucking worn out and he just wanted to sleep while at the same time wanting to never sleep again and he couldn't have it both ways. _Why was he such a mess, and why did Gabriel love him despite how much of a mess he obviously was?_

* * *

Sam didn't fall asleep after waking from the vision, but Gabriel hadn't expected him to either. Raphael's mixture had included a gentle painkiller and some nutrients, but no sleeping aids and none of their ideas for an anti anxiety medication because those had to be things Sam decided to try for himself if and when he was ready.

What Gabriel didn't understand was why Sam had more or less laid down on top of him, and trying to read his mind had resulted in no clues because it was completely blank.

The only thing Gabriel had managed to see in Sam's head was that he was in overwhelming agony and that it hurt to think.

Gabriel supposed that was probably because Sam had spent three full days in the vision and his psychic muscles weren't ready for anything like that.

Michael had wanted to stay and keep an eye on his friend, but Raphael had convinced him that it would be better if he went with Heylel and the fledglings outside. Resting in the big nest would be good for Sam, there would always be someone there and awake to keep him company, but at least until he was a little more present, it would be good for the fledglings to have some outside time.

Six hours after Sam had jolted from the nest Sam was still curled up on top of Gabriel, no closer to sleep than he had been to start with.

"Sweetheart," Gabriel whispered, "Does your head hurt less at all?"

Sam mumbled something that wasn't hopeful about the state of things.

"Can you give him any more painkiller?" Gabriel asked quietly, looking over at Raphael. He didn't like his mate being in so much pain, not at all.

Raphael shook his head. "Not yet. They're not exactly designed for humans and I don't want to overload his system. A normal dose for you or me wouldn't do anything to our heads, but I just can't risk that for Sam."

"I know." Gabriel did know. Very well, in fact, why they were being so careful. But he couldn't _stand_ seeing his mate in so much pain. Not if there was anything at all he could do to help.

"I'll give him more in an hour."

It was another six hours before Sam was coherent enough to get off of Gabriel, but even then he didn't do more than roll off him and then try to bury his face in Gabriel's side.

"Sam, do you think you can eat some food for me?" Raphael was holding a tray with a bowl of chicken noodle soup on it.

"I'm not hungry," Sam grumbled without moving his head.

"Sam, you haven't eaten in quite awhile," Gabriel said. "Are you sure you won't try a few sips at least?"

"I _will_ puke," Gabriel's mate growled. There was some silence as he thought. "But maybe a little bit of water wouldn't hurt?"

Raphael waved his hand, placing the bottle with a straw from earlier near Sam. Instead of having medicated fluids in it, there was just water.

"Where's Mikha?" Sam asked suddenly when the water was gone. He blearily looked around the room as he sought one of the two archangels not present in the room.


	25. Reunion: Michael

Michael loved Talia, and he couldn't have been happier for their child to finally be born.

But Auntie Ama's return was foreboding, too. Her presence was a reminder that their Father had been interfering with their lives and happiness _since the literal beginning of existence_ and that He was still very much a real threat to their continued happiness.

And then there were Sam's Psychic Visions and frequent nightmares. He could see how wrung out both his brother and his brother's mate were.

Even as he watched his own mate showing their beautiful offspring the Garden of Heaven, there was a piece inside that _ached_ with the newfound knowledge that there was more likely than not, an injured and lost fledgling _somewhere_.

And while his siblings may not have seen it yet, _it stank of a trap_. One that would work, too. Because there was no way either he or any of his flock would suffer a fledgling to live with such peril. Not on their lives.

Before he could dwell further on the possibilities of the fledgling or lack thereof, the scent of _the best_ chicken noodle soup in all of _Heaven_ assaulted his nose, and his stomach growled. But then it was gone, and Michael wanted nothing more than to have eaten _all of it_.

"Mikha? You okay?" Heylel asked from where he was sitting a few yards away.

Michael glanced at his mate. Sami was sitting next to Heylel with Talia in his lap while he braided wild flowers together and draped the flower chains over her. It was adorable, and yet, his own discomfort was making it difficult to concentrate.

He was almost nauseous with hunger, and he was confused. He was certain the phantom pregnancy symptoms he had shared with Heylel were supposed to have _ended_ once Heylel had given birth. And there was no way he was going to ask Raph about it. Not when his brother's understandable discomfort had been palpable. He'd just… deal. And maybe go looking for a snack.

"Mi?" Heylel repeated. He looked concerned, and Michael didn't want it because they were supposed to be worrying about the safety of the fledglings, and their flock.

"I'm hungry," he admitted quietly. "I think I'll go walk around a little, maybe bring back a basket of fruit for all of us."

Heylel raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it. "Okay," he said instead. He still looked concerned, but Michael was glad that he wasn't being further questioned.

Michael turned around and walked deeper into the garden. There had to be something to eat around here somewhere.

A few minutes after he was out of sight, he smelled something _divine_. It was sweet with a slight tang of almost citrus. It smelled familiar, but not something he could place, and certainly not something he had ever tasted before.

He could not leave the Garden without tasting it.

The tree bearing the unfamiliar fruit was at the very center of the Garden. They were red and smelled sharp as citrus but looked more like pomegranate.

Michael was sure he was supposed to remember what this was but he was too hungry to care and he was sure it was edible. Even if it wasn't, there was no way that it could hurt him.

The branches of the tree were so heavy with fruit that the branches draped downward. It was easy for Michael to reach up and pick one of the fruits.

He tore it in half, watching in fascination as the juice dripped down his arms. And then he tasted it. It was sweet with a hint of tang and there was nothing more that he wanted in the moment than to eat every fruit on the tree.

A few feet away from the tree there was a basket lying on its side, so Michael took it and began picking the fruit. For every fruit that made it into the basket, he ate at least one, and after the first few, he decided that it wasn't necessary to break the fruit open because the peel was either edible or it wasn't and it didn't matter either way. It was slightly bitter, _but he didn't care_.

* * *

Joshua had never eaten the fruit of the tree in his garden called the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. He also had no intention of ever doing so, however that did not mean that he did not know the list of beings who had at one point in time all eaten from it. Even though most of them had not picked it themselves, he knew who all had tasted it, and the misery that might have come to them in one way or another because of it.

But the fruit itself was not inherently evil, and so it could not _really_ be the cause. Just a superstition.

None of these things were relevant to why Joshua was concerned. But he would have been concerned regardless of what tree Michael decided to eat all the fruit from. He was just extra concerned because none of the individuals who had eaten from the Tree of Forbidden Fruit had ever eaten an entire fruit. Let alone more than one. Or a whole basket.

"Heylel, I think you should go make sure your mate is okay."

Joshua had no qualms about going to Michael's mate because if anyone could provide Michael with whatever it was that he needed, it was probably him. Or at least, he hoped so.

Heylel looked away from watching the two fledglings so that he could see the Gardener. "Is something wrong with Mikha?" he asked.

The Gardener glanced at the two fledglings as the elder of them stopped what he was doing with the flowers to stare at them, and rethought exactly what he wanted to say. "Michael is eating an unusual quantity of fruit from the tree at center of Heaven and I was concerned that it was not the most _appropriate_ snack. He's also collecting a rather large basket of it."

The third eldest being in all of Heaven nodded his head, picking up as much on what Joshua implied as what was explicitly stated. Michael was eating more of the Forbidden Fruit than anyone else had, and was collecting it, which was slightly worrying, if only because Michael should _not_ have been so hungry as to need it for nourishment.

"Thank you, Joshua. If you could stay here with Sami and Talia for a moment, I will bring Mikha back." He looked over at the fledglings. "Sami, will you and Talia be okay here with Joshua while I go make sure Mikha didn't get lost looking for a snack?"

The older of the two fledglings blinked at Heylel and then returned to braiding the flower stems together. "Tali and I will have fun with Joshie." He held up the newest flower chain in Joshua's direction. "Can I make you look pretty?"

Joshua glanced in Heylel's direction and was met with an encouraging nod, so he walked over to sit down in front of the children. "I would like that, I think."

* * *

Once upon a time, Heylel had wanted all of the other archangels to eat from the fruit of the forbidden tree. He had only been mostly successful, as he had lost the opportunity and desire to share it with either Mikha or Raph after the rest of their family had been broken apart. He wasn't sure whether or not the fruit could be blamed, though the Creator had once tried to pin it on exactly that. But why create the fruit in the first place if absolutely no one was to ever eat of it?

But that didn't matter. It didn't even matter that Michael was eating it, except that eating so much of _anything_ would not be particularly healthy, and more importantly, he was worried about why his mate was so hungry to begin with.

Heylel hadn't bought Mikha's flimsy excuses of his distraction being related to hunger. There had been a glint of determination which suggested he had been thinking about whatever Sam and Sami were having visions of and he was concerned about how it was affecting his mate. It would be just like Michael to find it necessary to go after a threat to a fledgling all by himself.

He found Mikha exactly where Joshua had said he would be, picking fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and either shoving them whole into his mouth or placing them in the very full basket he was holding.

"Mikha, Sweetheart," Lucifer said quietly, stepping forwards to wrap his arms around Michael. "Do you think we can find you something else to eat? You're worrying Joshua."

"But… so _hungry_."

"I know." Lucifer gently put a hand around the fruit Mikha was in the process of trying to eat. He pressed on Mikha's fingers and the elder archangel released the fruit into his hand. Against his better judgement, he took a bite out of it. There were too many bad memories associated with it for the Lightbringer to take enjoyment from the taste, but he knew it had been necessary. "Sweetheart, do you know what tree this is?"

"No." Mikha frowned, and looked down at the basket of fruit he had picked. "I can't remember, but there's something about it." He worried his lip. "This might sound odd, but…. I think Sam needs to eat a slice of it."

Heylel honestly thought that sounded like a terrible idea. _Gabriel would murder them both._ But he also trusted his mate. Mikha's plans didn't always make sense, but he was the Viceroy of Heaven, and if he really thought it would help, maybe it was worth a shot. "If you're sure this is going to help, I think it should be a very small slice."

"Okay." Michael handed Lucifer one of the fresh fruits from the basket he was holding.

Lucifer took it and cut it. "I think you should leave the basket here."

They left the center of the garden.

* * *

"How are we supposed to find a missing Fledgling when no one else with greater magics than us has able to locate it?" Fenrir asked.

"Their powers aren't inherently _greater,_ for one thing. Different, perhaps, but not greater. Or lesser, either. I'm also not sure they've started properly looking. As for why I think this will work, well, I'm sure Dad would have done it already if he'd thought of it, but from what you said, he's probably been really busy making sure Sam's okay after what one of you did to him."

"It wasn't me!" Fenrir snarled.

"It happened weeks ago, he should be fine!" Jormungandr hissed. "Not that I'm the one who might as well have poisoned him. That's not my MO!"

Hela rolled her eyes. "I didn't imply that it was. But Dad still said all five of you are grounded. But anyway, let's just see what this spell tells us."

She held up a feather, but it wasn't any feather. It was clearly a feather from one of Gabriel's wings. She dropped it in a glass petri dish on the table. Next to it, there was a very large map of the United States.

"Like calls to like, right? So let's see what happens if we go like this…" She added a square of snake skin, a hair from the mane of a horse, the tooth of a wolf, and a drop of her own blood. Then, she struck a match and dropped it in the petri dish. "Let the archangel of pagan fosterlings lead me to an Earthbound Fledgling."

It took more than a moment, and long enough for everyone to stare at the map worriedly, before two glowing circles appeared on the map. One was a mix of amber and orange and the other was green.

"Is that it?" Fenrir asked, pointing to the red dot somewhere in Nebraska.

"No, you idiot, that's Alliance, Nebraska, where the American Antichrist was born? Don't you keep up with any current events? No, I think what we're looking for is here." She pointed to the green dot. "Let's go check it out."

* * *

Sam was still lying on the floor when Michael and Lucifer returned to the large nest with the children in tow. Heylel was carrying Talia on his hip with one arm and holding Sami's hand with the other while Michael held only a very small slice of fruit that had been cut for Sam.

"Sam," Michael said, instantly crossing to the hunter. "Can you eat this for me?"

Gabriel's eyes widened as soon as he saw the slice of fruit. "Michael, no…"

But Sam was already sitting up and reaching for it. He wasn't sure what it was or why this was important, but he knew all the way to the core of his very being that he had to eat this, _right now_. He hadn't been able to stop the thoughts swirling in head. Amara, the Creator, the missing fledgling, and he was more certain now than he had been before that there was a _piece_ missing in the puzzle of visions and nightmares.

Sam swallowed the fruit slice without thinking, the taste so bitter and sour that he couldn't help but swallow it as quickly as possible. But he held no regret. _This was significant._

"Sam…."

Sam closed his eyes. _Missing fledglings and demon blood visions._ He'd never figured out how to control what he saw in the visions, but what if he could? What if he could find the fledgling that way?

"Sam!"

 _Fledglings and dark spaces. Aching backs and sore skin and fear so strong it was palpable. It had been difficult to differentiate the fledgling's prison from Amara's, but he'd_ been _to hers._

He exhaled through his mouth and ignored the sting of copper in his nose. It would be worth it.

 _And then he saw it. Three children_ he knew _about to walk into the trap laid so perfectly for the archangels, as the woman reached to knock on the front door of the dilapidated house he had once been inside of._

"No!" he was screaming. "Gabriel, the fosterlings!" It didn't matter that they hadn't liked him, that one of them had possibly tried to get him blackout drunk. _They were Gabriel's, therefore they were his_.

"Where?!"

Gabriel was shouting, scared, but Sam was already rattling off the address he didn't need to read off the mailbox to know. Photographic memory had never been the greatest of his skills, but he would never forget the address of the man who had written his entire life into a series of books.

Michael drew his archangel blade and was gone almost before Sam could finish rattling off the address. He was the Viceroy of Heaven, and no harm would come to any children. Not Gabriel's fosterlings, _a question for another day,_ or Heaven's missing fledgling.

Children were sacred to humans. And even more so to the Archangels.


	26. Expecting: The Unexpected

**AN:** There's a reference to the Sims 3in the title, and it's more obvious here than on AO3 if you know what I'm talking about. Digital cookies if you find it!

* * *

He was wrath. He was vengeance. Michael was the Viceroy of Heaven and no one was going to lay a hand on anyone in his family. Not on Gabriel's Fosterlings. Not on a nameless fledgling. Not on his daughter. Not even God. Not today. Not in any future he was going to be apart of. Not on his life.

They'd wondered for far too long at this eventuality, and they should have acted sooner. But Michael wasn't going to dwell on regrets of past inaction. He was here now and he would put an end to the fear _this instant_.

He knew that there was no way he could actually kill God if he were to face him, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that _no one_ got to hurt his family without consequence.

And so he stood between the three cowering children and the Entity intent on destroying them for merely attempting to knock on the door. _Not today_. Sword in hand, he _repelled_.

Chuck, the prophet God had been masquerading as, and his reign of tyranny, were over. For good this time. If he could just _defend._

He could feel the pressure of destructive intent coming towards him like a tidal wave, and he cut through it with a single slash with his suddenly summoned archangel blade. _Not today. Not any day. Never again._

Michael took a step forward, switching to the offensive with an instinct that had been tapped down for far too long. God would no longer torture his family. Never again.

Without conscious thought, he whispered words that he had almost spoken before for an entirely different purpose.

God had locked Amara into a prison of nothing, but she had eventually managed to free herself.

Instead of reusing Her prison, he would lock God away into the cage built to contain Heylel. It _would_ hold Him. And with the seals used up, _it would never open again._ Not again. Never again. They _would_ be free.

And then He was gone from their lives, and Michael collapsed onto the ground, clutching his stomach and pressing his forehead into the dirt.

The pain radiated through his body, his abdomen, his wings. It felt like he was being devoured from the inside. _And he couldn't feel his grace._

"Michael!"

That was not any of the children still standing safely behind him, but he knew that voice better than any other.

"Auntie Ama!" Michael did not try to lift his head. It would have taken far too much energy.

"Mikha, Sweetie, why would you do this to yourself?" She asked. "You could have died, to say nothing of your unborn child!"

Unborn… child? What was she talking about? "Tal-ia?" Was his daughter okay? She had to be okay, wasn't she in Heaven with the others? God hadn't returned to Heaven, He was in the Cage. They were all safe, they had to be!

He was hyperventilating and it was doing nothing for the stabbing pain.

"Talia is fine, she's still in the big nest." Oh, thank Her. "I'm referring to the one you are _currently_ pregnant with. The one you seem pretty content to pretend does not exist?"

"That's… not possible." This was an illusion, a lie. It had nearly broken his heart to hear Sam's suspicions that he was pregnant for this very reason, but Sam was _friend_ and had meant no harm.

She touched him, and pulled him into her lap. Not an illusion, then. It was more comfortable, but it didn't stop his insides from aching. More now, than they had when he collapsed. It wasn't all physical pain, anymore. It was also heartbreak and remembered anguish.

"I can't bear children," he whispered. "Or so He always said."

"You've been starving yourself and they are definitely suffering, but please trust me when I tell you that there is an unborn child in there and that you're very lucky they are still alive. This stunt could well have killed them, and you. If you don't believe me, perhaps you'd like Raphael to examine you? Or Heylel?"

His mate was going to kill him. But he wouldn't do that to Raphael. He wouldn't.

* * *

"You don't have to do this! Rafa, stop!"

Heylel rolled his eyes as Mikha squirmed on the bed in their private room. Amara had called Raphael to bring a battered Michael back from Earth and had insisted that he be examined by Raphael somewhere a little more private than the big nest.

It was obvious that his mate was in pain, but he still squirmed instead of letting Raphael complete the full exam. _Why was Mikha doing this to himself_?

"Michael," Heylel said, using his full name to carry the gravity of the situation. "If you don't stop squirming and allow Raphael to finish the last part of the exam, I _will_ tie you to the bed. In the most unsexy way possible."

"I don't want to know!" Michael screamed as Raphael tried to touch him again. "Raphael doesn't want to know!" he added, when he realized his first shout wasn't going to get him what he wanted.

Heylel plopped heavily onto the bed with a sigh. His mate was _in pain_ but apparently they were going to do this _right now_ because his mate was a _fool_. He knew where this was going, and the words Michael had shouted are specific enough that he's pretty sure he can guess at what this is about. He knew that Sam had asked similar questions earlier and he wishes that he had noticed then how quickly Michael had pushed it aside. Denied it.

He shook his head at Raphael after the Healer tried again, unsuccessfully, to touch Michael.

"Raphael, if I had asked you straight, weeks ago, simply to confirm whether or not I was pregnant, and without trying to pry details about our species from you that you weren't ready to give, what would your response have been?"

Raphael tilted his head, then his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "As a Healer, it's my job to put aside my discomfort when it comes to a diagnosis. I would have performed a test and given you a yes or no answer, and because my I am capable of differentiating between pregnancy, unborn fledglings, and my own trauma and experiences, it would have been fine. No, I wasn't able to deliver Talia. It brought back flashbacks of my isolation and pain. But performing the test would not have had the same effect."

Michael stared at Raphael and Heylel. He hiccupped, then started sobbing. It _could_ be as easy as asking. "He said I couldn't, so I can't!"

Michael knew he sounded as petulant as a fledgling, but he didn't care. _He didn't want to know_.

Heylel sighed again. "Well, either you are or your aren't, and if you're not going to let Raphael check, I guess we have to go on the assumption that you are."

"I'm not! I can't be! It's not possible!"

Heylel rolled over and turned himself so that he was pressed close against his mate. "You are injured, and your grace is so depleted I can just barely feel it and we are _bonded_. I know that He did incredibly awful things to you when we were growing up, but you wouldn't be insisting on this so hard right now if something hadn't happened tonight."

"Will you leave me alone if I let Raphael do the fucking test? I'm not pregnant and I can live with that."

He was pretty sure that Mikha would _not_ be okay if the test turned out negative, but if that was the case (he was like 90% sure it was going to be positive) they would get through it just like they'd gotten through everything else.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to Mikha's cheek. "It'll be okay."

Michael sobbed in Heylel's arms and Heylel nodded at Raphael to begin the test. It was a slow process of Raphael examining every inch of Michael's grace, and Michael sobbed the entire time.

Heylel wished he knew what God had done to Michael that could ruin what should have been a joyous occasion, but he also knew it wasn't his place to ask. When Michael was ready, he would tell them. In the meantime, he would support his mate.

Right before Raphael stepped back, Heylel saw the hint of a slight smile cross Raphael's features. Mikha couldn't see it from his position, and Heylel was kind of glad about it. _"It can not be a false positive,"_ he whispered to Raphael on a channel of grace that Michael would not be able to hear. _"That_ would _kill him._ "

Raphael nodded, before speaking quietly. "I have an idea," Raphael turned to face Mikha. "Mikha, since I know you're not really going to believe me regardless of what I tell you, why don't I _show you_ what I found? Humans have the technology to show moving pictures of their unborn children, which I believe are called ultrasounds. I could use my grace to show you what I see, with no illusions. Is that alright?"

Mikha turned his tear streaked face towards his brother. "It'll show exactly what is there, right now?" Raphael nodded. "Okay."

Raphael waved his hand and a moment later there was a free standing screen in front of them. He was also holding what looked like the mobisante ultrasound probe, not that they knew that's what it looked like. He brushed it against Michael's abdomen and then glanced at the screen.

They all stared at the screen. The image presented to them was recognizable as a fledgling. Not fully developed by a lot, but recognizeable nonetheless. The unborn child had the very basic shape of a child, head, torso, limbs. What stuck out the most though, of course, were the extra limbs extending from the fledgling's shoulder blades could appear to be located.

Heylel blinked at the picture. "Does she have six pairs of wings?" This was not what Heylel wanted to know more than anything else, and the main reason he asked was to distract Mikha from the panic attack it looked like he was close to having. He was also genuinely curious about this because there were no angels or archangels in Heaven having more than a single pair of wings. Even Talia and Sami only had a single pair of wings each.

Angels also had no real gender, as the difference between those who could and those who could not carry children themselves was not determined by _gender_. Heylel and his mate, and most of his siblings, used masculine pronouns because they matched with their vessels or simply didn't care what human words were necessary to describe them. If Heylel had been speaking Enochian, he would have used the only pronoun in the language. But he hadn't been, because they had all taken to using the much larger vocabulary provided by the English language their brothers' mates spoke.

Raphael smiled, in that way of his that absolutely meant Heylel was _wrong_. The elder archangel was okay with that, though, because Mikha had tilted his head in a way that meant that he was also interested in hearing Raphael's answer, and that was a win. His mate would panic over the fact that there really was an unborn child there soon enough.

"No, Heylel. It only looks like there's six wings forming because the bone segments haven't fused yet. This image is magnified quite a lot. In reality, her entire being is smaller than the palm of your vessel's hand."

Mikha's eyes had started watering, so Heylel pressed himself closer. "I'm pregnant? Really?"

Heylel was about ready to find out exactly where Mikha had locked Chuck away and maybe go beat him up. More than once. Mikha sounded utterly _terrified_ , and still there was disbelief, although there was just a hint of hope, which was a good sign.

"I would not lie to you about this," Raphael said. His tone was solemn and honest, no hint of mischief or levity. "I have to insist that you don't leave Heaven before she's born. You are incredibly lucky that the stunt you pulled today didn't kill you both. I'm not going to put you on complete bed rest for now, but I am going to be monitoring your health a lot closer."

"But you don't have to do that!"

"I think Raph _does_ need to do that," Heylel argued.

"Mikha, how much pain would you say you're in right now?" Raphael asked.

Mikha shrugged. "Less than when I collapsed in His yard? It's mostly just discomfort, but it's nothing. Why are you threatening to put me on bed rest? Heylel flew to Earth a few times while he was pregnant, and wandered freely around our home."

Heylel rolled his eyes at the wall. His mate was lying, and crabby, and liable to hurt himself further. Bed rest was probably a good idea. If the stubborn idiot would actually follow it. But Mikha was his stubborn idiot, and he wouldn't have him any other way.

"Okay," Raphael said. "Mikha, I insist that you walk to the other end of the room and back. Then we'll go rejoin the others in the big nest."

What would that accomplish? Heylel wondered. He could tell that Mikha was in pain and had been lying about it being nothing more than slight discomfort, but was having him walk across the room really the best way to prove a point? "Is that necessary?" he asked, less because Mikha looked like he was about to argue and more because maybe Raphael was taking this a bit far. Michael didn't look like he was capable of walking that distance, and he was probably stubborn enough to try it anyway instead of just losing the facade. Heylel just didn't want to see Mikha hurt any more.

Raphael looked like he was about to say something, probably along the lines of "Yes, this is necessary, are you arguing with my methods?" Yes, yes Heylel _was_ arguing with the methods, but why did all of his brothers have to be _so prideful_. Wasn't he supposed to be the one whose greatest sin was pride?

But before Raphael could actually say whatever it was he was about to say in defence of his healing methods, Michael stood up, and tried to walk towards the far end of the room.

It didn't really count was walking. He was barely shuffling his body forward, but his face was contorted in a look of so much pain even before the first step was attempted. The second one was even more of a struggle, and Heylel wanted nothing more than to jump up and put an end to the whole farce. _The stubbornness of idiots apt to get themselves killed._

But the words never made it out of Heylel's mouth.

Just as Mikha lifted his foot to take the third step, his entire body _crumpled._ He hadn't actually moved more than a single foot away from the bed, so it was child's play for Raphael, who was standing right next to him, and Heylel, sitting within arm's reach, to catch him and gently place him horizontal in the middle of the bed, gently, and so that he was not lying on the same side with the baby.

Mikha didn't have the presence of mind to look ashamed, he just sobbed. One of his arms reached out towards Heylel, but then at the last moment he retreated, drawing his arms around himself and sobbing harder.

Heylel laid down beside his mate and touched him gently to offer the comfort that Mikha wanted but had tried to deny himself. "It's okay," he whispered. "We're here for you."

"It hurts so much," Mikha whimpered. He scowled. "Why am I so _soft_? You and Talia-"

"Stop." Heylel tried to keep the snarl out of his voice, and only mostly succeeded. "Stop. You did what none of us could have ever done and got rid of Him _completely_. We're never ever going to have to worry about our safety due to him coming after us, and you did _that_ all by yourself. Yes, Raphi and I are incredibly worried about you right now, but that's because we love you and care about you. You do _not_ get to compare what you're experiencing to my carrying Talia." He considered what had occurred only hours earlier with Mikha claiming hunger so _desperately_ that he'd eaten and eaten from a tree he had never before touched. He blinked. "You've been _starving yourself_."

Mikha froze. "What? No. I haven't been starving myself. Why would you suggest that?"

Raphael just looked sad. How had he missed it? How had they _all_?

"You tried to eat all the fruit of a single tree. And I know that you were meeting Sam at a lot of different coffee shops, but did you actually eat any of the food you tried to buy for him? For that matter, did Sam?"

As if the words summoned him, the door to the room opened, revealing Sam, barely able to stand on his own. Slowly, he began to stumble towards the nest. Eventually, he reached the edge of Mikha's side of the nest, almost falling over before climbing up onto the bed. He crawled the rest of the way until he was kneeling in front of Mikha.

He reached into his pockets, nearly falling over once again, before finally pulling out a wrapped granola bar from one of the several pockets. "Here, you should have it," he mumbled, before flopping onto his side, and shifting up the bed until he was resting next to Mikha, his head laid gently upon the archangel's shoulder. He yawned softly, snuggling close like a child to their parent, and quickly fell asleep.

The archangels were all silent, watching Sam sleep. Several minutes passed, before Heylel finally whispered. "All this time, Sam knew. Every time he would go somewhere, he would try to make sure you ate." With a sigh, he carefully moved to pull the granola bar from Sam's hand, before unwrapping it and placing it in Mikha's. "You can't just keep neglecting yourself. If you can't take care of yourself for your sake, and can't for mine, then please, do it for Sam, and for our children."

Mikha wasn't hungry, and hurt too much to want to eat. But he took a bite of the granola bar and chewed slowly, hoping that it wasn't going to trigger the nausea that had been plaguing him for months. He mostly just wanted to cry some more because everything that was happening was a lot to take in.

Suddenly there was a light tapping on the door. A quick glance proved that it wasn't loud enough to cause Sam to stir, although it was quite possible that nothing, not even the end of the world, would have woken Sam at that point.

Who could it be?


	27. What to Expect

The door opened and there stood Amara. She was holding something swaddled in a blanket, but none of the archangels could tell exactly what it was.

"Auntie Ama?" Mikha mumbled sleepily, yawning.

"May I come in?" she asked. "I found something in His house that never belonged there."

Raphael nodded with a quick glance at the sleeping Sam. It did not seem that anything could or would wake him.

Hopefully with Him being gone, Sam would get to sleep without his visions and nightmares tormenting him. He deserved it, after everything that he had done for their family, especially Michael and Lucifer. If there was one thing that Raphael was most curious about when it came to Sam, it was likely by what instinct he had known that the archangels were pregnant.

Amara stepped into the room and carefully closed the door. She made sure it didn't slam behind her, as she did not want to wake those who most needed their sleep.

"What did you find?" Raphael asked, moving around the bed so that he could get a closer look at whatever precious cargo Amara had brought with her from where He had been living on Earth.

The Goddess held out her bundle towards Raphael, once he had stepped close enough for her to reach. "I would call him Ismael," she said.

Raphael shifted the bundle, and discovered that Amara had found a baby. Not just any baby though, because as he shifted the blanket away from the child's back he was able to see faint wings pressed tightly against the child's back in such a way that could not have been comfortable. Yet, it didn't seem to him that the fault was in the blanket or the swaddling, but rather that the child had either conciously, or unconsciously, pressed the wings as close to himself as he was capable of doing.

He very carefully reached to touch the grace of the small child, but he watched Ismael's face, so that he could pull back if this was going to wake him. Before pulling his grace back, he was able to tell that this fledgling was a child of angels, not a nephilim, or an angel that He had created himself, which was almost worse.

Who had borne this fledgling? Did they remember that their child was missing? How had Ismael ended up with Him? What had He done to him?

"Rafa?"

Raphael turned around. Mikha had asked the question, but Heylel was also staring at him.

"I wonder if Sam and Sami have been sharing dreams about the dark things this little one has had to endure," Raphael found himself saying. It made a sickening amount of sense that it might be the case. Sam had been plagued by dreams about the suffering of innocents before, he understood, and it seemed that Sami was also possibly coming into powers as an empath, which also explained why he had been so upset over the dreams he'd been having, if it had been as bad for the child as he suspected it could have been.

"Can I see him?" Mikha asked, more sedately than Raphael was used to hearing from the eldest of them being very often.

Raphael walked back around the bed so that he could sit beside Mikha on the bed and pass the infant to him, keeping a hand underneath Ismael in case Mikha didn't have the strength to hold him for an extended period of time.

The child seemed to fall into even deeper sleep, as Mikha snuggled him closer. Raphael found himself letting go of Ismael as Mikha leaned back against the pillows and yawned. Perhaps holding something so small and innocent would help him settle down and get his own much needed rest.

Talia was still in the big nest with the rest of their siblings minus Castiel, but it was possible that her presence would help soothe her parents, now that everything was supposed to be both calmer and safer. He wanted to examine Ismael for injuries first, though. It was also not unlikely that he would be overwhelmed if he was introduced to everyone at once. But first it would need to be determined how far along he was developmentally. He was certainly larger than a newborn, but he couldn't begin to guess at how old he was, or whether or not He might have tried to intentionally hinder him.

"I'm going to go check on the others," Raphael decided. The effects of what Mikha had done had seemed to affect Mikha the most, but he wanted to make sure that everyone else was okay, especially Gabriel's fosterlings that had almost been caught in the backlash.

He slipped past Amara and headed for the big nest, where he expected everyone else to still be resting. Upon arriving, he found about what he was expecting to find.

Gabriel and the three fosterlings were sitting in the far corner of the room. They were silent, unless Gabriel had used some kind of area silencing spell so as not to disturb anyone else in the room. The fosterlings were shaking, and Gabriel seemed to be offering them some comfort.

Samael was holding Talia, who was sleeping, and he was sitting on the floor next to Aziraphale, who was playing peak-a-boo with Samandriel. It seemed that they were pretty good at distracting the fledgling from things going on around him, but it made Raphael wonder if perhaps they should get to work on private warded rooms so that there was less likeliness of needing to go to further efforts to hide things from the children.

Gabriel and Sam would need a private room for sure. His understanding of the humans the youngest archangels had chosen for their own, they'd never had permanent homes on Earth, so having private bedrooms in Heaven was the least that they deserved. A nice bedroom for Sam and Gabriel, where he could make a permanent bed with at least some of the nice bedding he had been gifted by the rest of the archangels.

He wanted to meet the fosterlings, but Raphael also didn't want to interrupt whatever was going on between them and Gabriel, so he allowed himself to check on Sami first.

"Rafa! Rafa!" Sami shouted, giggling as Raphael flitted over and scooped the child up off the floor. There was something about the innocent joy that fledglings exuded from their entire beings. It didn't matter that Sami was thousands of years old and should have been full grown several times over, what mattered was that he was Raphael's innocent child and his entire being desired to protect and keep him happy.

"Raphael?" Gabriel called from the other side of the room. It either disproved Raphael's idea that he'd used his grace to silence the area, or he'd removed it, though it wasn't relevant. "Could you come here for a second?"

Raphael put Samandriel down in Aziraphale's lap before walking over to Gabriel to see what the situation was. He knelt so that he would not scare them by being too tall.

"These are three of my fosterlings. Raphael, meet Hela, Fenrir, and Jormungandr."

"Hello," Raphael greeted, stiffly. He wasn't sure why Gabriel had called him over, and the way he had done so seemed almost out of character for him.

The fosterlings nodded awkwardly, as if they weren't certain as to what else to do.

"My brother is a Healer," Gabriel said, gently, clearly addressing the fosterlings and not him. "Would you allow him to give you each a once over? I just want to make sure you're all okay."

"He didn't hurt us, Dad," the girl said quietly. "Not physically."

"Why were you there?" Gabriel asked, and his tone seemed to come across almost as desperate for some answer.

"We heard about a missing fledgling, one that was stolen," one of the boys started, looking away from Gabriel. "We wanted to try and find them, to see if we could try and bring them home, and maybe afterwards try to apologize to Sam for what happened at the party."

Gabriel sighed, and Raphael could see the remaining fear covering his brother's face. "And you didn't think to ask for help, at any point? Fen, you and your siblings could have been _killed_. How am I supposed to explain that to the twins?" He shook his head. "How did you even manage to track the fledgling there? None of us could even sense it."

"Magic," the girl, Hela, answered. "I used blood magic to scry for angelic blood of your blood."

Raphael wasn't sure what that was, except that it didn't sound right. Or safe. "Wouldn't that have revealed all angels or humans of nephilim blood located in the geographical location you searched?"

She shook her head. "I invoked Gabriel's aspect as archangel of Pagan Fosterlings, so it only revealed children, and second generation nephilim and beyond wouldn't have enough magic to show up with the spell I used, so there were only two in all of the United States. The child plaguing Sam's nightmares, and the antichrist in Nebraska."

He blinked. "I'm sorry, Antichrist?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I'll explain later." Turning back to the fosterlings, he continued. "But why didn't you try to ask one of us for help? You know that you can always ask me for anything, no matter what's going on, I thought that I'd made that more than clear when you were kids."

The third child, though Raphael decided that all three were probably much older than they appeared, scratched at his pant leg, and said, "You've been so busy taking care of Sam, I wanted to do something for you." He didn't look up at Gabriel, focused entirely on his leg.

The first boy, Raphael thought he was called Fenrir, scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're just a suck up, Jor."

"Fenrir!" Gabriel's tone was sharp, as he stared down the boy. "How many times do I have to tell you not to speak of your siblings that way?"

Fenrir stuck his tongue out at Gabriel, which confused Raphael. It was a childish action, one Sami pulled from time to time, but not so sassily. Then again, Sami also didn't act out for the sake of acting out, so he didn't sass.

"Rafa says we gots to be nice," Samandriel said.

Raphael turned, thinking Sami's voice was drifting from the other side of the room, but he found that his fledgling had escaped from Aziraphale's lap and had crawled across the room to come to him. He picked his child up and set him on his knees.

"That's right," Gabriel cut in before Raphael could think of what to say in response to Sami. The fosterlings were Gabriel's children and responsibility, and it wasn't his place to speak of their behavior. "We have to be nice, Fenrir. Especially when we're being _good role models."_

Fenrir stared at the baby on Raphael's lap for several long moments and then said, "Yes, Dad. I'm sorry, Jor. I shouldn't have said that."

Leaving it at that, Gabriel said, "Sami, these are my fosterlings, Hela, Jormungandr, and Hela."

"What's 'Fosterlings', Rafa?" Sami asked.

Raphael thought for a moment about how to explain the term in a way that would make sense to Sami. "It means that Gabriel raised them and takes care of them, like how I look after you." He had been parenting Samandriel since he'd smote Naomi, and he hadn't even remembered that Sami was _his child_. And they hadn't even told Sami the truth.

They'd have to. Sami should have known from the beginning. It wasn't fair to him that Raphael had hid from what had happened, or that he'd trusted Sami's care to anyone else.

"Okay, Rafa," Sami said. He looked back at the fosterlings. "Play with me?"

Fenrir and Jormungandr nodded eagerly and hurried after Sami as he motioned for them to follow him and crawled away. As soon as her brothers were behind Raphael, Hela crawled into Gabriel's lap.

"You alright, Sweetheart?" Gabriel asked, rubbing Hela's back. She shrugged. "Will you let Raphael make sure you're okay? It's non-invasive, and it should take just a few seconds. I know you're probably fine, but just to reassure me?"

After a moment, Hela nodded. Raphael waited, because he wanted verbal consent. Gabriel may have been correct about how it would take only a moment and be non-invasive, but he still wasn't going to do it without verbal permission. She seemed to understand, because after another moment she said, "Okay, go ahead."

Raphael reached forward, and held his hand out to her, palm up. "I'm just going to hold your hand, okay? That's it."

Hela studied his hand, and then put her hers around his fingers.

The connection wasn't only physical, which was why giving the quick examination was almost as easy as the movement of her reaching out. She didn't have grace, or a soul, but she did have the magical essence of all Pagans, though it resembled grace more than an average pagan would have, given the length of time she must have spent in Gabriel's company. He was able to read it like he would have read souls or grace, letting it tell him its hurts.

As she said earlier, she wasn't physically injured, but that didn't mean she was perfectly alright. It did seem to be nothing more than some magical exhaustion and lingering terror, which was to be expected. But even knowing for certain that she wasn't injured was sure to give them both some comfort.

"So, what are the results?" Gabriel asked.

"Clean bill of health," Raphael said. "However, it does look like your magical reserves are a little on the low side, but that's nothing a nap and maybe a few days of rest won't cure." _'She's also still terrified, but I don't think she'd appreciate me saying that aloud. I imagine her sitting there will help with that, though?'_

Gabriel tilted his head just enough for Raphael to know that he was agreeing. He ran his hand down Hela's back again. "I think that sounds like a good idea."

Hela shifted, but Raphael noticed how she hadn't let go of his hand yet. "I-"

"Have things to do that really can't wait a few days?" Gabriel gestured to where her brothers were playing with Samandriel. "Do you really want to drag them back to Earth, _right now?_ They'd all be unbearable." He rubbed small circles into her shoulder. "You deserve a few days to rest, and I would love it if you all stayed."

Hela withdrew her hand from around Raphael's, and rested it between her head and Gabriel's knee. She yawned. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt anything."

The girl was asleep between one breath and the next.

Gabriel smiled. "Now if only all her brothers were as easy as this one."


End file.
